End of Eden (Se7en Sinners Book 2)

  “To talk to you.”

  “Talk to me? You don’t think this meeting could have been arranged without jamming a gun in my face?”

  “As opposed to reasoning with you?” He snorts out a laugh. “Reason isn’t something you understand. But violence? You thrive off that shit.”

  He reaches behind him to turn the knob of the front door before backing out slowly, the gun still aimed on me. He doesn’t miss a beat.

  “You know there are cameras in the hallway, right?” I warn, slowly stepping out from the apartment. The moment I’m close enough, he roughly grabs my arm and twists me around so he’s at my back. I can feel the gun grazing my spine.

  “I’m aware. Lucky for me, they’re currently experiencing technical issues. Now walk.”

  I do as I’m told, praying for some stray neighbor to step out. I’m not sure if he’d open fire on an innocent, but I have to believe there’s at least one shred of decency in him. The kind, warm man I met earlier…hopefully it wasn’t all a farce.

  To my dismay, the hallway and elevator are completely empty. There’s not even a doorman stationed at the building’s entrance.

  “Did you hurt him?” I ask, jerking my head towards the small podium where the nice older gentleman stood just minutes ago and wished me a good night.

  “Not permanently.”

  Fucking great. Any degree of harm inflicted on my behalf is too much. I bite down on my rising anger. I need to keep a cool head, and allowing regret and rage to creep in and cloud my judgment won’t do any good.

  “And my sister?”

  “Safe. With Ben. We have no interest in hurting uncontaminated humans.”

  Uncontaminated humans?

  Shit.

  “Are you Called?”

  Christian spits out a curse. “Fuck no.”

  “You should know that neither am I. I…I made a deal…”

  “I know that, Eden. Doesn’t change what you are. So shut up about it”

  “What I am? And what’s that?”

  He ignores my questions and walks to me a nondescript black SUV. Not as luxurious as one of the Se7en’s but I have a feeling it isn’t meant for aesthetic reasons. He opens the back door and roughly pushes me inside, not giving two shits about me tumbling to my side. There’s someone already in the driver’s seat, and the second Christian closes us inside the warmed vehicle, he takes off.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “We’ll be there soon enough. Shut your mouth and enjoy the ride.” His tone isn’t as deep and commanding as Legion’s, but there’s an air of authority in it. As if he’s used to people doing as he says. Fuck that.

  “So what? You’re kidnapping me? You could have at least let me grab some clean clothes.”

  By way of answer, he sets his gun down just long enough to produce what looks like a black blindfold. “Either you put it on, or I do.”

  “You’re joking, right?”

  “Do I look like I’m fucking joking?” He all but throws the blindfold at me and trains his gun back on my head. “Put it on. Now.”

  I snatch up the scrap of fabric with a huff. “Asshole,” I mutter, not caring if he’s heard me. “And to think, I was worried about you being too nice.”

  “Sorry to disappoint, cupcake. I’m just a better actor than you are.”

  I roll my eyes before covering them with the blindfold. I should be more afraid, but I’m honestly too upset with myself to allow the fear to take hold. How could I have been so stupid? No one can be trusted, especially some prick with kind, green eyes and a nice smile. The pretty ones are always the most dangerous. I should have learned that by now.

  It seems like ten more minutes tick by before the SUV slows to a halt, but I could be wrong. It’s impossible to tell when nothing but blackness stretches before my eyes. I want to rip off the blindfold, but before I can, the car halts and the engine dies. Then the side door opens and I’m being yanked into the ice cold night.

  “Keep up,” Christian barks, tugging me along as I stumble over gravel and my own feet.

  “Where am I?”

  Again, he ignores me, but I can feel his annoyance at having to guide me through some type of entrance of a building. I only know it’s a building because our footsteps seem to echo and I’m no longer freezing.

  There’s a burst of static and a muffled voice coming from a receiver, like a walkie talkie. I can’t fully make out what they’re saying, but I catch the words, “Subject is on premises and en route.” Subject, as in me. This was all planned, and who knows for how long.

  I have to feel my way down narrow, winding steps, without any help from Christian. The ridged wall is cold under my fingers, and has a mineral smell to it, as if it was cut from stone. Once we finally reach level ground, we walk for what seems like forever, corridor after endless corridor, before Christian literally lets me run right smack into a door.

  “What the fuck!” I yelp, rubbing my forehead.

  “Watch your tongue,” he growls before yanking off my blindfold with enough force to pull out a few strands of hair. “You’re in the Lord’s house.”

  I blink rapidly, my eyes adjusting to the light streaming from dozens of glowing sconces situated throughout the hall, all leading to a heavy wooden door. It looks ancient, something that was probably constructed in medieval times. Honestly, judging by the stone walls and the lack of advanced electricity, I’d say we’re in the crypt of some creepy ass castle. Great.

  Christian bangs on the door three times before an unfamiliar voice instructs us to enter. Male. Soft, borderline soothing. But that doesn’t mean a damn thing.

  Christian pushes the door open, revealing a large office. Heavy oak wood furniture accented with dark earth tones. Nothing designer or high profile, and all well used. Two armed men dressed in black cargo pants and Kevlar stand on either side of the huge desk that sits in the middle of the room. And at that desk sits a handsome man—late 40s-early 50s, light bronze skin, dark, clean-cut hair—wearing a burgundy robe and looking at me expectantly with a soft smile on his lips.

  Well, this is new.

  “Please, come in. Take a seat,” he urges, waving us forward. “Apologies for the short notice, but you are quite difficult to get ahold of, young lady.” His tone isn’t at all touched with aggravation. Honestly, he seems friendly, kinda like I thought Christian was friendly. And we all know how that panned out.

  I gingerly settle in one of the chairs in front of his desk, while Christian takes the one beside me with an irritated huff.

  “Where am I?” I ask, skipping the false pleasantries.

  “A church,” the kind-voiced man answers without hesitation.

  “So you’re what…? A priest?”

  He nods. “More or less. A minister of sorts. Around here, they call me Rev. You’re more than welcome to do the same for the time being.”

  Church. Minister. Armed guards.

  Fucking hell.

  “You’re the Alliance.”

  “A fraction of it, yes. We’re so very pleased to have you here. Crysis tells me that your friends put up quite the fight to keep you from us a few days ago.”

  “Crysis?”

  The minister—Rev—nods once towards Christian, who visibly tenses.

  “Quite unfortunate. Much unnecessary blood was shed.”

  At that, Christian—Crysis—turns to glare at me, pure hatred in his eyes and adds, “The blood of good men. I’m sure your friends are satisfied with themselves.”

  The gas station shootout…. That was him. The blonde man with the scope rifle. He spoke to Legion as if he knew him, or at least knew of him. And he definitely knew who I was. God, how could I have been so naïve? I should have known the moment I laid eyes on him.

  “You were trying to kill us,” I retort.

  “We were trying to save you,” he bites back.

  “It was foolish of us to expect that the Se7en would be reasonable, considering their plans for you,” Rev cuts in. “I underesti
mated their unquenchable thirst for power.”

  I shake my head. “The Se7en saved my life more than once. If anyone was trying to save me, it’s them.” I say it, although I’m not sure I wholly believe it. Still, I don’t want to give these assholes the idea that their interference is welcomed.

  “So it may seem. But one must wonder why they were so adamant to keep you from us—an organization that has taken in the afflicted for centuries while successfully combating our world’s known evils.”

  “Um, probably to keep you from drilling a hole into my head,” I answer, rolling my eyes.

  Rev waves off my remark as if the idea of torture is no more than a bothersome gnat in his ear. “Barbaric experiments attempted by the first of the Ordained, many, many decades ago. An ugly stain on our history, but I assure you, no human has been harmed under our protection in recent years.” He leans forward, placing his elbows on his desk and clasping his fingers under his chin. “You have ways to detect whether or not I’m being truthful. I invite you to see for yourself.”

  I narrow my eyes at him, a smug smile on my lips. That’s exactly what he wants. His friend, Crysis, fooled me into thinking he was a normal guy, only to block my compulsion later on. How do I know I won’t be met with debilitating pain the very second I reach out to touch his mind? He could be extending an invitation to commit suicide.

  Fuck that.

  “So what is it that you want from me?” I question, leaning back in my seat.

  “Want from you?” Rev frowns.

  “Seems like everyone has their own agenda when it comes to me. What’s yours?”

  He shakes his head. “Nothing. We just want to keep you from those that wish to harm you. We’ve watched you your entire life, Eden, hoping that evil would not find its way to you. We kept to the shadows because we wanted you to live a normal, human life. But now that you’ve made friends with the very forces that want to manipulate your unique gifts, we find it imperative to extend our aid.”

  I cross my arms in front of my chest and purse my lips before saying, “A normal, human life? If you’ve been watching, as you claim to have been, then you know that nothing about my life has been normal.”

  Rev has the nerve to look remorseful, and lowers his dark brown eyes in shame. “I know, and I apologize. You have no idea how much I wish things could have been better for you. Every day I’ve prayed for forgiveness. Every day I’ve prayed for you.”

  What a crock.

  I roll my eyes for what must be the twentieth time since I arrived and huff out an exasperated breath. “Save your prayers. Besides, it’s not like any of it was your fault.”

  He keeps his gaze on me for a long beat before he looks down at a manila file folder in front of him. “Your mother…when was the last time you saw her?”

  “I don’t know,” I shrug. “A few years. Maybe more.”

  “You’re not a frequent visitor at the hospital?” he frowns slightly.

  “Why would I be? She doesn’t want to see me. And when she’s actually lucid enough to remember who I am, she blames me for her being there.”

  “Do you believe she can get better?”

  I turn my head from his prying eyes, giving my attention to the dusty shelves crammed with books. “She hasn’t in twenty-two years. Safe to say that ship has sailed.”

  “All things are possible through Christ, Eden. You must only seek His grace.”

  “Oh yeah?” I turn back to look at him, my gaze darkened. “Would have been nice of Him to lend a little bit of that grace when I was wearing holey, secondhand clothes and sleeping on a dirty mattress. But I guess He was too busy spreading that grace around to more deserving children.”

  “I…” Rev swallows, his dark brown eyes glazed. “I’m sorry. I can only imagine how difficult it must have been to be raised under such dire circumstances.”

  “Difficult?” I snort. “During the winters, I’d have to wrap my shoes in plastic bags so I could make it to school in the snow. I never missed a day, even if I was sick. I knew free lunch would be my only real meal of the day. The cafeteria ladies would even package the leftovers to send with me on Fridays so I would have something to eat on weekends.”

  He grimaces as if I’ve just spit in his face, his features painted with a hundred shades of regret. That was unfair of me. It’s not his fault my mom had hoped I’d eventually wither away and die, and spare her of the task of killing her demon spawn. But when my young spirit proved to be too strong, she went with Plan B. Under the guise of God’s Will, she drowned me in the bathtub. However, it was Adriel, disguised as a stray dog, who brought me back from the brink of death.

  After that, Mom only got worse.

  “Look, it doesn’t even matter,” I halfheartedly assured. “I’m not staying with the Se7en now. I’m just trying to get on with my life and leave all this shi…this crap behind. I’m no threat to anyone. So can I just go home now?”

  “So that stunt this evening?” Crysis interjects haughtily. “That wasn’t a threat? The fact that your demon has claimed you was our only saving grace.”

  Claimed me?

  Claimed me?

  What the hell?

  “You didn’t know?” he questions, obviously pleased with my confusion. “Of course, you didn’t.”

  “Supernatural creatures, like animals, have a way of imprinting on humans,” Rev explains after shooting Crysis a chastising look. “It’s a mark of possession—a means of control. He wants to dissuade others from moving in on what he deems as his property, and in essence, take away your free will.”

  He doesn’t touch you.

  The way Legion said it, as if it were gospel, baffled me. That wasn’t jealousy. It was ownership.

  Mother. Fucker.

  But let’s be honest…if Legion hadn’t shown up when he did, who knows what I would have done. I’d like to think I would have stopped myself, but I can’t lie…Lucifer has left his mark too. And that notion should utterly disgust and terrify me to my bones.

  “He doesn’t control me. If he did, don’t you think he would have me under his roof right now?”

  Rev shrugs a shoulder. “Perhaps. Or maybe he just wants you to think you’re in control.”

  “Or maybe he’s not the monster you want to believe he is,” I counter before releasing an aggravated breath. Thinking that Legion could have claimed me without my knowledge is bad enough. But their archaic belief that I’m some helpless damsel who can’t think for herself is infuriating. “Look, I know you’d like to believe that the Se7en have some weird, supernatural hold on me, but they don’t. Everything I’ve done—good or bad—was because I wanted to. I own my actions, no matter how damaging they’ve been. If anything, the Se7en have tried to help me—help humanity. And that’s more than I can say for anyone else. Have you looked outside lately? Crime in Chicago is out of control. And that’s not the work of seven rogue demons. Humans destroyed this city. Humans are fighting and killing and hurting each other every day all over the world. Maybe it’s time we take ownership for that.”

  Rev ponders my words for more than a few long moments before nodding his head in diplomatic resignation. “I can’t argue that. This world, and its people, have its many faults. But I have faith that we will achieve the redemption that the Alliance of the Ordained strives for. We deserve a second chance to make things right.”

  I raise a brow. “Does that mercy extend to all God’s creatures, even those of little faith? Even those that have lost their way?”

  I can see he doesn’t want to admit it, but the tenants of forgiveness have been burned into his brain and on his heart. He dips his head once, but doesn’t verbally respond.

  “Then maybe the Alliance is more like the Se7en than you want to believe.”

  We’re locked in a stare-off until Rev finally blinks, and diverts his gaze. He shuffles the papers in front of him to occupy his hands and avoid my expectant glare, but still doesn’t speak.

  “What am I doing here?” I question we
arily. It’s late, and my buzz wore off long ago, meaning I’m dog-tired. If they plan on keeping me here, I wished they’d get it over with and show me to my dungeon already.

  “We’d like to extend sanctuary and protection, Eden,” Rev answers. “I know you’ve had a hard go at life, but we can help you. Not only have we successfully cured the afflicted, but we’ve helped them acclimate to life post-Calling. We can do the same for you.”

  “Is that right?”

  “It is. I can see you’re skeptical, but when you are ready, I’d be happy to show you some of the work we do here.” He leans forward, his voice touched with what sounds like earnest sincerity. “I know you’ve felt lost—like you don’t belong—your entire life. Maybe that’s because this is what you were created to do—to help those like yourself. You won’t be made to feel like an outcast here. You won’t be looked upon as a mistake or a burden. Your past scars will not define you. They will encourage you.”

  I swallow, taking in his words that seem to shoot straight through my chest. “I…” I swallow again, this time through a knot in my throat. “I don’t know.”

  “Think about it then,” he smiles. “Go home; rest. Take some time to figure things out. We know you feel some sense of loyalty to the Se7en, but I want to assure you, we will never try to manipulate or control you. We merely want to accept you—the real you. We’re like a family here, Eden. And we’d be honored for you to be a part of that.”

  A family? With military-grade rifles and creepy tombs under churches? Sheesh. I bet Thanksgiving is interesting.

  I nod, and climb to my feet, prompting Rev to do the same. He extends a hand to me, and when I take it, he cradles mine with both palms. “It was so great to finally meet you, Eden. I hope we can talk soon.”

  Another nod. I’m not sure what I should say. But I know this guy—with his soft, brown eyes and soothing voice—freaks me out. Not that I think he’s pervy or anything. It’s just the way he looks at me…like he’s genuine with his words. Like he’s been waiting to say them his entire life.

  I look down, feeling insecure, and within the file folder, I spy a scattered array of photos, yellowed with age. Pictures of me as a child, pictures of my mom when she was healthy and beautiful, picture of my mother dressed in a white gown standing next to a tuxedo-clad man with light bronze skin and kind brown eyes. They stand at the altar of a church adorned with dozens of flowers.