The conference call was anticlimactic. Raguel had, of course, been absent. His replacement was a no-show. Sara had a poor connection. It was decided to postpone the bulk of the conversation until all seven firms could be represented.

Reed left the crowded interior of the duplex in favor of the driveway. He was trying to figure out a way to keep Eve out of Anytown short of tying her up, when a low female voice drew his attention.

“Hey.”

He turned his head and watched the blonde—Izzie, the Goth girl—approach. She had her fingers shoved into the teeny pockets of her black skirt and her eyes were half lidded.

“Hey back,” he replied.

“I hear Cain was around earlier.”

“You didn’t miss anything.”

She shrugged. “I’ve met him before.”

“I’m sorry.”

A smile teased the corners of her pretty mouth. His gaze rested there, his thoughts returning to what that mouth had done to him earlier. The memory had as much impact as remembering to get his hair cut—convenient and good for the vanity, but not necessary. He wished he could say that about Eve.

“It was not so bad,” she said. Her gaze locked with his. “In fact, it was very good.”

Reed froze, absorbing the innuendo with growing unease. Her accent was Germanic. “You’re from . . . ?”

“Germany.”

“Sarakiel,” he growled.

“I was marked by one of her team, yes.”

“When?”

“A few weeks ago. I arrived in California the day class started.”

“And which firm will you be attached to when class is over?”

Her smile widened. “This one.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. In the normal order of things, Izzie would have had anywhere from one to seven weeks to settle into her new country and firm. She would have been assigned housing, given a vehicle and a bank account, shown around the city, and had a tour of Gadara Tower before starting training. In some cases, Marks were transplanted to their new firms, then found themselves back in their home countries for training if that’s the way the schedule fell. But following that bit of protocol would not have placed Izzie in the same class with Eve.

Nothing was coincidence. Sara had known of Izzie’s past and put it into play against Eve. Izzie’s selection was the hand of God, but using her as an irritant . . . that was pure Sara.

“You are not happy about this,” Izzie murmured.

“Why would I care?”

“Sara believed you would be pleased. But then, I do not think she knows how you feel about your brother’s girlfriend.”

He kept his face impassive, despite her dig.

“You called Eve’s name,” she continued, “when you came.”

Screw beating around the bush; he didn’t have time for it. “What do you want?”

“The same thing you do. Cain away from Hollis.”

He laughed. “Did no one tell you that Cain has been promoted to archangel? He’s incapable of giving a shit about either of you.”

“I do not need him to care. I just need him to give me an orgasm.” Her lashes batted coyly. “You and I can help each other.”

Seeing the similarities between Izzie and Sara, fury filled him. With his wings spread wide, Reed lunged across the distance between them, his face contorted with the rage of angels. He caught her by the throat and lifted her feet from the ground. Her eyes were like saucers in her pale face, her stained lips parted in a bid for breath.

In a terrible voice he warned, “You forget your place. We are not equals.”

“I d-did not m-mean—”

“Keep your distance from Eve. You will do nothing to her. Nothing.” His free hand lifted and cupped her face, his thumb pressing into her lips and smearing her purple lipstick along her cheekbone. “Or you will answer to me.”

Her hands wrapped around his wrists. “P-perhaps you w-will answer t-to Sara . . .”

His grip around her neck tightened.

“Abel.” Montevista’s sharp tone snared his attention. “What are you doing?”

Reed tossed Izzie to the grass that bordered the driveway. She puddled, but he knew she wouldn’t stay humbled for long. He faced the guard, schooling his features into a less frightening mien. “It seems Ms. . . . ?”

“Seiler,” Montevista provided grimly.

“It seems Ms. Seiler has too much time on her hands. Perhaps you have something you can occupy her with?”

Montevista nodded. “Come with me, Seiler.”

Izzie stood and straightened her skirt. Her slow smile with its ruined lipstick was macabre and served as a warning to Reed. Like Sara, life was all about the game to her—the maneuvering, the planning, the winning. Cain was a prize to be won and Reed had played right into her hands by joining his brother as a notch on her belt.

Retracting his wings, he turned away. Shit. Sara being here would only add to the tension. Cain was out of commission, but the obstacles in Reed’s path hadn’t diminished; they’d just changed. And women were much sneakier than men.

He looked at the house across the street, returning his attention to the most pressing problem. The redhead—Michelle—had come outside with a camcorder. The Great Dane and the Scottish Mark—Callaghan, the Ken doll—stood nearby. She appeared to be filming the neighborhood, whether for the show or for fun, he didn’t know. He was concerned, however, by Callaghan’s presence. The class was supposed to be in the house, helping Hank with the processing of evidence. Observing the many duties of the Exceptional Projects Department was part of training. Why wasn’t Callaghan participating?

Reed shook off the thought. Eve’s paranoia was filling him with suspicions, too. Fact was, Callaghan was a man and Michelle was pretty and possibly available. In the Mark’s shoes, Reed would think that making out with a hot redhead was more fun than hanging out with Hank and his potions, too.

Sensing Reed’s stare, Callaghan looked up and waved. He said something to Michelle, then walked over.

“Montevista asked me tae keep an eye on them,” Callaghan explained when he reached Reed. “So they dinnae wander off.”

“She’s cute.”

Callaghan grinned. “Aye, that she is. She wanted tae see Anytown now for some daytime filming, but I think I talked her out o’ it.”

“Where are the others?”

“In the house.”

Reed made an aggravated sound. “This whole thing is fucked all around. We don’t have the time or resources to baby-sit them.”

The unmistakable sounds of gagging preceded the abrupt appearance of the French Mark—Claire, the fashionista—lurching from around the corner.

She paused at the sight of them, swallowing hard. “I never thought I would wish for the ability to vomit,” she said.

“What’s wrong?” Reed’s gaze lifted to the side of the house she’d emerged from.

“The E.P.D. investigators are examining R-Richens’s body.” She bent over and clutched her knees, inhaling and exhaling carefully.

The urge to puke was all in her head, but like the Novium, knowing the cause didn’t make the phantom feeling seem any less real. Reed sympathized. He wasn’t fond of cadavers either, especially grisly ones.

“I have to leave,” she said. “I hate this place.”

“We’re trying,” he murmured, also sympathizing with whichever handler ended up with her. She was going to need a lot of help acclimating to the mark.

“I hated him, too,” she said.

“Who?”

“Richens. He was an asshole.”

“Aye,” Callaghan agreed.

“And now I feel terrible to have thought about him in that way,” she muttered.

Reed smiled.

“How much longer do we have to stay?” she asked.

“As soon as they go,” he gestured across the street with a jerk of his chin, “we can go.”

“What do they want?”

“To prove or disprove that there is paranormal activity in Anytown.”

“Where is a tengu when you need one?” she groused.

Reed paused, considering. A sense of déjà vu washed over him, as if he was meant to think of the idea that popped into his head. “Good idea.”

“Excuse me?”

“Why wait for them to figure it out for themselves?” He looked at Callaghan. “Let’s go with them now. We’ll rig something to give them the proof they want, then there won’t be any reason for them to stay.”

“They dinnae want proof of it,” Callaghan said. “They’re here tae disprove.”

“I watched the video they gave Hollis,” Claire said. “Mostly it was nothing for the first half an hour or so. Then they went to the video store and there was a shadow that looked like a DVD case floating in midair.”

“Perfect. So we give them a reasonable explanation for what the other crew saw and they’re done here.”

“Can I accompany you?” Claire asked. “I cannot go back in that house. Not now.”

“Where’s Hollis?”

“Helping Edwards. He is worse than me. He liked Richens.”

“And Hogan and Garza?”

“Hogan is fine with the corpse. Better than the rest of us. Garza accompanied Hank back to Anytown. He had to carry the equipment.”

“Let’s keep Hollis out of this.” Eve was safer surrounded by her class, the guards, and the E.P.D. investigators than she was anywhere else.

“Callaghan.” Reed looked at the Scottsman. “Offer to accompany the ghost hunters to Anytown, then lead them around to the video store. Claire and I will go on ahead, and set things up.”

“Will do.” Callaghan set off across the street.

Reed turned his attention to Claire. “Are you ready to go?”

She nodded. “I’m ready.”

“Good. Let’s get—”