"Oh poo! You always overreact to everything."
"So not true. Trust me. I live a life where people scream at me on an hourly basis, and take it without raising anything more than a jumbo-sized ulcer. The only thing that can make it larger is the cousin ulcer I get from the rampant stupidity on Facebook."
She pressed the medallion to his chest. "One day, your life will change."
"Yeah." He took the medallion as she walked back toward the living room. "One day, I will also be in a pine box, six feet under." He followed her out of the bedroom and had to admit their granduncle was a weird old man. "The lawyer said gramps here spent his younger years as an archaeologist and the last few decades as a total recluse."
Mary nodded as she scanned the bookshelves and tables that were littered with even more artifacts. "It looks like he spent a lot of time bringing that stuff home. You could probably make a killing on eBay."
Zeke didn't really hear her as his attention was taken with an odd coin that was partially covered on the coffee table. Frowning, he walked over to it. Bright and shiny, it looked brand new and yet the markings on it appeared as ancient as everything else.
More than that, it actually felt warm to the touch. "What do you think this is?"
Mary shrugged. "More junk."
Maybe. Then again, a strange sensation went over him. "You think any of this crap could be possessed?"
"No. I think you're possessed of the spirit of creepiness. Put that down and let's go get dinner. This place makes me depressed."
Zeke nodded. He reached out to drop it, but couldn't make himself let go. It was as if the coin somehow called out to him. Whispered to him.
And before he knew what he was doing, he put it in his pocket and followed Mary out to her car and then got into his.
3
You have been chosen...
Zeke looked up from his meatloaf sandwich in the cozy diner they'd found a few miles away to see Mary chowing down on her burger. "What did you say?"
She swallowed before she spoke. "Nothing. I'm eating."
You have been chosen...
"You're not funny, Mary. Stop that."
"Stop what?"
"Throwing your voice."
She gave him a droll stare then ate a fry from his plate. "I'm not throwing my voice, but if you don't stop irritating me, I might be throwing a fry at your head."
You have been chosen...
Zeke looked around the small restaurant. All the surrounding tables were empty. The only other customers were seated at a bar, talking to the waitress. "You didn't hear that?"
Mary scowled at him. "Hear what?"
"You have been chosen."
She screwed her face up even more. "What are you? On crack?"
"Not yet, but I'm thinking it might behoove me to find a dealer... except that they make me take a urine test every other day for work, so no fun there."
She snorted. "You're not right, are you? God, I hope that's not genetic, since Duncan and I are trying to get pregnant."
"Again with the ick stuff. Stop!"
You have been chosen...
Zeke growled at the voice. "And that means you, too. Damn. My life is bad enough. The last thing I need is to be schizophrenic."
"I don't know. Given your job, schizo could be fun... No, lady, I didn't turn you down. That was the voices in my head telling you to shove that claim where the sun don't shine."
"I really hate you," he said with a laugh.
"I know. It's why you tried to feed me Drano when we were kids."
He shook his head at the memory. "Yeah, but you're the one who traded me for a wagon."
She let out an evil laugh then sipped her Coke. "You do know that when you turned sixteen Mom told me we should have kept the wagon."
"I've no doubt." It actually explained a lot about his high school years.
You have been chosen...
Zeke raked his hands through his hair. "Call the shrink. I've lost my mind."
"Sweetie, you lost that a long time ago. Now eat your sandwich. The voices in your head are probably hungry, too."
Zeke rolled his eyes at his sister's curt dismissal. He'd just turned back to his sandwich when something that felt like an electric current went down his spine. It truly felt like a razor blade skimming his soul.
And something inside him raised up like the hackles of a dog. He turned toward the door at the same time a well-dressed man entered. Dressed in a suit and tie, he looked completely respectable.
Cheats on his taxes and wife. Misappropriated funds from his clients earlier tonight. Beats his kids. Total douche. Will eventually spend ten years in jail for fraud. Damned to hell on his deathbed. Nothing will redeem him. His ego won't let it.
Zeke shook his head to clear out that strange voice that wouldn't let up. It reminded him of one of his grandfather's tirades against hypocrites.
"Richard Cheatham."
The man stopped next to him. "Do I know you?"
Zeke looked up and blinked. "Excuse me?"
"You just said my name. Do I know you?"
He frowned at the man. "I didn't say anything."
"Yes, you did. You said Richard Cheatham. I heard you." His dark blue eyes narrowed dangerously. "Did my wife hire you?"
"Dude, I don't know you and I have no idea what you're talking about."
Richard started to grab him.
Zeke caught his hand and whipped it around, twisting Richard's body as he rose. He held Richard against him while the man struggled and cursed.
Stunned, he glanced to Mary who was as shocked as he was. When the hell did I get my mad ninja skills? Definitely couldn't be wizard powers... he'd lost his virginity at nineteen.
What evoked spontaneous shinobi?
How many hours of Mortal Kombat have I played?
He released Richard who then scurried out of the cafe.
"What the hell was that action?" Mary asked.
Zeke had no idea. He didn't know how to move like that. How to defend himself. God knows, his ass had been kicked enough in his life to prove it to him.
You have been chosen...
Chosen for what?
Psychotic episodes?
Just what I fucking need...
"I don't feel good, Mare." He pulled out a ten and dropped it on the table. "I think I need to go home and rest. Thanks for coming with me." He didn't give her time to say a word before he bolted.
He quickly got into his silver Nissan that was parked beside hers, and headed home. For the entire two-hour trip back, he kept waiting for the voices to return.
They didn't.
But his car radio was whacked out. Every time he changed the station, some weird-ass song would play. AC/DC's "Highway to Hell." "Hells Bells." "Evil Walks." Godsmack's "Releasing the Demons." Papa Roach's "Roses on My Grave."
"What the hell is up with my radio?"
Every single station had something to do with death, demons, or hell.
"Well, I know this damn car ain't Bumblebee." For one thing, he'd been driving it for over nine years. If it was an Autobot in disguise, surely it would have transformed before now.
No, this was like one of those Twilight Zone episodes they showed on the Syfy Channel.
Maybe his voices had possessed his car.
Yeah, right.
By the time he reached his house, he was really starting to freak himself out with psychotic fears that the devil was after him or that aliens were about to pull him on board for an anal probe. This was some kind of freaky Ring or Poltergeist shit going on.
His heart racing, he left the car in the driveway and got out. Before he reached his door, the neighbor's dog came running up to him to hump his leg.
"What in the world is wrong with you?" He pulled the dog gently from his leg then ran like hell to his door. He fumbled for the keys while Tiny was trying to make time with his shoes.
"I am not your date! Hit up the Chihuahua down the street. I heard she's an easy lay." Opening the doo
r, Zeke slid inside then slammed it shut.
The dog whimpered on the other side.
"This is the oddest day of my life."
"Just wait. It gets stranger."
Eyes wide, Zeke turned at the deep, scary voice behind him to find what had to be a man so beautiful he should have been the lead act in a drag show. Tall, thin, and blond, he had eyes so blue they looked like a cloudless sky. "Who the hell are you?"
"Wrong direction, actually. But my name is Gabriel."
Zeke tightened his grip on the doorknob, ready to bolt outside again. "And you would be in my house to..." Rob me blind and kill me?
"Explain the current weirdness surrounding you."
Call the cops, Zeke. Now.
That would only be a waste of your time.
He gasped at the sound of Gabriel's voice in his head.
"You have been chosen," Gabriel said in that same spooky voice he'd been hearing.
"For what? Arkham Asylum?"
"To be an avenger for mankind."
Zeke tried to open the door, but before he could, it vanished. Literally.
Anger and fear mixed inside him. "Yo, Hotel California, I want my door back."
"And so it'll return once we have this settled."
"Settled, my ass. I'm not Emma Peel and I'd look like shit in a black catsuit. Find her for your avenger. Now let me go."
Gabriel tsked at him. "You can't fight your destiny, Ezekiel. Besides, you asked for this. We couldn't have fulfilled Michael's choice had you been unwilling."
Unwilling for what? Zeke swallowed as he turned around slowly to face Gabriel. "How did I choose this?"
"You asked for your life to change. You wanted to be special. To make a difference. Michael heard you, and so he chose you to be his replacement."
"Michael's dead."
Gabriel shook his head. "Not dead. After all these centuries of fighting, he's retired. You're the new Seraph who will take on his duties."
Yeah, the dude was on crack. "What duties?"
"To maintain the natural order of the universe. Good versus evil. We allow evil a certain latitude to fulfill its part, but whenever the demons take their duties too far, we are the ones who rein them in."
"Bullshit!"
Zeke ran for his bedroom. He slammed the door shut and locked it then froze as he caught sight of himself in the mirrored door of his closet.
His short black hair was now snow white and long. His clothes were gone, replaced by a black shirt and pants and a long, full black leather coat. Three spikes stood out on each shoulder and a red chain was wrapped around his left arm.
Holy shit! I'm a refugee from FUNimation...
Or Final Fantasy.
On his right hip was the hilt of a sword that looked like an ancient cross. As he watched the hilt in the mirror, the center opened to reveal two pale blue eyes and a small mouth.
"You can call me Jack."
Zeke screamed and ripped the hilt off then threw it to the ground. He turned to run to the window only to find Gabriel there.
"I see you met Jack. Don't worry. Most men scream like girls when he does that."
Zeke shook his head. "This is a whacked-out dream. I'm going to wake..." He trailed off as "Jack" mutated from a cross-hilt into a large, metallic man.
How much Fullmetal Alchemist have I watched?
Jack extended his hand. "All Seraph have a minion and a guardian. I'm yours."
Zeke's head whirled at what was happening. This is not real. It couldn't be.
"Breathe deep before you hyperventilate," Jack said.
"What are you?"
"I told you. I'm your guardian and your minion. Anything you need that's metal, from transportation to weaponry, I can be. When you need a hand fighting, I look like this." He indicated his armored human form then pounded his hand against his metallic breast. "The best armor in the world. Nothing, except a handful of demonic weapons, can mar me."
Gabriel clapped Zeke on the back. "Welcome to the fold, Ezekiel."
Suddenly something warm swept through Zeke. It felt as if his very blood was on fire. His breathing ragged, he turned back toward the closet. His eyes were a vibrant red and his face was every bit as perfect and ethereal as Gabriel's.
Zeke lifted his armored arm to make sure it was him.
Shit. It was.
Still in shock, he frowned at Gabriel. "What about my day job?"
A bit sheepish, Gabriel glanced away. "There's no payment for being a Seraph. Sorry. But you will have a whole new set of skills. Just wait."
That sounded ominous. "The only skill I want is the ability to wish myself a billionaire."
Jack laughed. "Won't happen. They like poverty."
"They" who?
Gabriel scratched nervously at his neck. "And there's one more thing you should know."
Of course there was. "And that is?"
"Your granduncle Michael notwithstanding, the average life expectancy for a Seraph is... two years."
Zeke laughed nervously. "Oh yeah... hell to the no. I definitely decline. You can take this crap and stick it."
Gabriel reached behind his ear and pulled out the coin Zeke had taken from his uncle's house. "The minute you willingly accepted the medallion, you sealed your fate. You have been chosen, my brother. The only way out now is death."
Zeke gaped at him. "You're shitting me."
Jack clapped him on the back. "But on the upside, your Seraph form will never age. And the only way to die is by a demon blade. As long as you survive fighting them, you're immortal to the things that would kill a normal human being. Think of the money you'll save on medical bills."
That was so not an upside.
Gabriel gave him a gimlet stare. "And there's one more thing."
"Neutering?" That would be Zeke's luck.
Gabriel laughed. "No." He snapped his fingers. An instant later a black mist appeared by his side. It swirled into the small form of a raven. No sooner had the bird appeared than it exploded into the form of a tall, gorgeous woman with long black hair and coal-black eyes. Dressed all in black, she was striking and tough.
Now we're talking.
Gabriel inclined his head to her. "Ravenna is also your helpmate."
"Oh yeah, baby." He reached for her, only to have her grab his wrist and flip him onto the ground, where he landed with a painful oof.
She wrenched his arm and put one perfectly spiked heel on the center of his chest. "Keep your hands to yourself or lose them." She pressed the heel in, making him grimace. "And don't call me baby." Then she released him and moved away.
Gabriel's eyes danced with humor. "Ravenna is your contact with the other side. She's also your eyes and ears, both to me and to the demon posse. You guys get acquainted. I have duties to attend." He vanished.
"But - "
"There are no buts, boy," Jack said, laughing. "You, my friend, have been chosen."
Ravenna nodded her agreement. "Always be careful what you wish for. You just might get it."
Yeah, and in this one wish, Zeke had definitely been screwed.
LOVE BYTES
1
"Could you please tell me what's wrong with me? I swear if anyone else looks at me and snickers, I might go postal."
Samantha Parker looked up from her computer monitor to see Adrian Cole standing in her cube. Or rather towering over it. At six foot five, the man reminded her of a giraffe when he moved around the office.
Not that she minded. Personally, she adored his height, just as she adored those gorgeous eyes of his. Deep and a dark chocolate-brown, they made her melt every time he looked at her.
And the sleek, loose-limbed way he walked...
Oooh, just thinking about it was enough to make her burn.
She'd never been particularly fond of blond men, but those dark eyes with his thick mane of tawny curls and lush golden skin just made her ache for a taste. A nervous jitter went over her like it always did when he stood this close to her, and she could smell
the clean, spicy scent of him. The man was simply mouth-wateringly scrumptious, and incredibly brilliant.
"Well?" he prompted.
Sam bit her lip as she raked her gaze over his long, lean frame. "Other than the fact you look like your seeing-eye dog dressed you this morning, nothing," she teased. "What did you do to make Heather mad this time?"
He cursed under his breath. It was common knowledge that Adrian had a rare type of color blindness that rendered him completely incapable of seeing any color whatsoever. As a result, he paid his baby sister to do his laundry, and every time Heather got upset at big brother, she took it out on his wardrobe.
"What did she do to me now?" he asked warily.
"Well, you'll be happy to know your red plaid shirt is still red, but the splotchy pink Henley really has to go."
Adrian held his leg out and pulled his jeans up to show her his socks. "What about them?"
"Unlike your shirt, they actually match your Henley."
Growling low in his throat, he buttoned his plaid shirt all the way to his neck. "One day, I'm going to kill her."
Sam laughed at the threat he uttered at least twice a week. She'd met Heather a couple of times during lunch, and though Sam liked her, Heather was a bit self-absorbed.
"So, what did you do?" she asked.
"I refused to let her borrow my Vette. The last time she took it out, she hit a pole and cost me three thousand dollars in damage."
"Yikes." Sam cringed for him. Adrian loved his vintage 1969 Stingray. "Was she hurt?"
"Thankfully, no, but my car is still sulking over it."
Sam laughed again, but then, she always did that around him. Adrian had a dry, sharp wit that never missed a beat. "Well, I'm glad you stopped by. My Perforce is acting up again. I can't get it to integrate my changes." Which meant that the stupid server had her locked out and every time she tried to update a page on their Web site, it refused to let her.
She hated Perforce, and it hated her. But they were required to use it so that upper management could keep track of who made what changes to the Web site, and out of the entire network services department, Adrian was the only one who really understood the program.
"What's it doing?" he asked as he came to stand beside her.
Sam couldn't breathe as he leaned down to read her screen. His face was so close to hers that all she had to do was move a mere two inches and she would be able to place her lips against that strong, sculpted jaw.