Evangeline Hollis woke to the scents of Hell—fire and brimstone, smoke and ashes.
Her nostrils flared in protest. She lay on her back, unmoving, willing her brain to catch up with her circumstances. Licking her lips, she tasted death, the bitterness coating both her tongue and her mouth in a thick, immovable wash. Her muscles shifted in an attempt to stretch and a groan escaped her.
What the hell? The last thing she remembered was . . .
. . . being burned to a crisp by a dragon.
Panic assailed her with the memory, quickly followed by her mind lurching into full awareness. Eve jackknifed up from her sprawled position, sucking in air with such force it was audible. She blinked, but only inky darkness filled her vision. Her hand reached up to her arm and her fingertips found the raised brand there. The Mark of Cain—a triquetra surrounded by a circlet of three serpents, each one eating the tail of the snake before it. The eye of God filled the center.
The mark burned whenever she took the Lord’s name in vain—which was often—and whenever she lied, which was a little less often but useful on occasion. When dealing with Satan’s minions, playing dirty leveled the playing field.
Where the fuck am I? In her upright position, the smoky stench in the air was magnified. Her nose wrinkled.
Maybe I’m in Hell? As a longtime agnostic, she still struggled with facing the reality of God. Heaven, Hell, souls . . . They were concepts that couldn’t be explained with reason.
Besides, if there was a merciful God and a Heaven, she’d be there. She had only been cursed with the Mark of Cain for six weeks, and she hadn’t yet been properly trained in how to kill Infernals, but during that short time she had eradicated a tengu infestation, killed a Nix, and managed to vanquish a dragon. She’d also helped to put a lid on a major new threat to the good guys—a concoction of some sort that allowed Infernals to temporarily hide in the guise of mere mortals. And she’d managed to get Cain and Abel to work together for the first time since they were kids.
If all that wasn’t enough to save her soul, she would take her chances with the Devil. Maybe he’d have a better sense of fair play.
As Eve’s mind struggled to catch up with her present circumstances, the sound of singing penetrated the fog of her thoughts. She couldn’t understand a word, but it was familiar all the same. The language was Japanese; the voice, her mother’s.
The idea of sharing Hell with her mother was oddly both comforting and chilling.
And look for Eve of Chaos,
on sale June 30, 2009.