Lash stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around his waist, and searched for a clean pair of clothes. As much as he hated leaving his watch of Naomi, it felt good to finally clean up. Since the shooting, he had kept her in sight at all times, choosing to nap an hour or two behind the overgrown shrubs in Welita’s backyard whenever Naomi went to sleep. As he watched, he tried to think of what he could possibly say to convince her not to go back to Dantan’s office. He still hadn’t figured it out, so he decided to wing it. He planned to “run into her” outside of the office building where she worked. When she finally fell asleep, he ran back to his apartment to change.
“You may want to try washing your clothes more often.”
He spun around to see Raphael holding a clean pair of jeans and a black t-shirt.
His relief to see Raphael was quickly replaced with frustration. “You need to tell me what’s going on. Naomi was almost killed a few days ago.” He snatched the clothes from him.
“You know I am not allowed to tell you that.” Raphael sat on the sole tattered chair in the one-room apartment. When it wobbled, threatening to break, he changed his mind and stood back up again.
Lash growled with frustration as he tugged the shirt over his head and pulled on his jeans. He knew it wasn’t Raphael’s fault that any of this was happening and that he was taking great risk in being there.
“What can you tell me?” He was about to grab a bottle of whiskey from the mini-fridge when he changed his mind and took a soda instead.
“It’s time for you to leave.”
No! The can fell to the ground and soda sprayed over the floor. He couldn’t leave. It was too soon. “Is my assignment complete?”
“Not yet. Naomi is in great danger, and you need to take her away from here. There is a safe house in New Mexico.” Raphael handed him a small GPS device. “Here are the coordinates of the location. You need to take her as soon as you can.”
Lash breathed with relief. He didn’t have to leave her—not yet. However, persuading her to leave her family and go to some unknown location hundreds of miles away was not going to be easy. “Any suggestions on how I convince her to do that? I don’t even know what we’re running from. Although I have an idea …”
“What do you know?”
“I know that Naomi was steered into meeting with this Dr. Dantan and that he’s connected with the billionaire Prescott.”
Raphael paled. “Luke Prescott?”
“Yes.” Lash was puzzled by his reaction. He’d never seen him like this before. Most of the time, Raphael had a calm demeanor, except, of course, when it came to putting up with Lash’s antics.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m pretty sure. I saw one of his bodyguards, Sal, bribe a hospital worker to get Naomi to meet with Dantan. Then I overheard Dantan talking with Sal on the phone. And then, a few days ago”—he swallowed, remembering the blood on her temple—“someone tried to shoot her down. Innocent people were hurt.”
“Dantan. The name sounds familiar.” Raphael bent down, picked up the can, and placed it in the sink.
“I’m pretty sure Dantan is like me, a fallen angel, except he has his powers. He has a way of pulling you in and forcing your trust. He almost had me reveal myself.” Lash tore off some paper towels and bent down to wipe the floor.
“Do you get headaches when he questions you?”
“Yes.”
“Damn.”
“Raphael!” Lash popped his head up, astonished at his language.
“I apologize for my use of profanity. You are correct. Dantan is one of the fallen, but you are nothing like him. His real name is Dantanian. He works on Lucifer’s behalf, which is why he has his powers. He’s highly skilled, able to put on many faces to deceive the humans he controls.”
“Controls?”
“Yes, controls. That is why he works as a psychologist. It’s a well-respected profession that provides a perfect cover to complement his talents. He can use his inherent gifts of mind manipulation and hide them behind the skills humans refer to as psychodynamic therapy.”
“Why would he want to manipulate a group of college kids?” Lash thought about Andrew, who had no idea of the world beyond the zombies in Call of Duty, and Tori, who was as antisocial as they came, and even Ellen, who could barely step out of the house without her mother’s permission.
“What do you know about their families?”
Lash plopped himself on the edge of the bed and reflected on the previous group session. “Andrew’s father works for Prescott Oil as a software engineer. That alone is suspicious. His mother is a fundraising organizer. Tori’s mom works as a secretary in the local American Federation office, and Ellen’s father is—” Lash’s eyes widened. “They’re all tied in. Ellen’s father works in Jane Sutherland’s office.”