could hear the rustle of fabric as he undressed. He turned her to face him, his member fully erect.
As she stroked him with her hand, she looked down, startled. His erection appeared unnaturally large. Her insides tensed as she realized the experience of taking him into her body would be painful. She glanced up at his face. There was no charm in evidence now, only a malevolent sneer. Her lustful feelings withered as the spell vanished.
What am I doing here? Where was Roberto? Why was she here with this man she did not know? Another look at the man’s absurdly huge penis and knowing what he intended to do with it spurred her to action. She grabbed her clothes and made a run for the door, only to find Sammael suddenly in front of her.
What? How? She hadn’t even seen him move.
“Not so fast. We’re not done yet.”
She detected the veiled threat beneath his silky voice.
“No. Let me out.”
Those were the last coherent words she was able to speak.
* * * *
The door opened and old Massimo jumped back in alarm. On every occasion he had met with Sammael, he never looked the same twice. Except for his eyes. Massimo always recognized the eyes. Insanity, and something else, something old and decayed, lurked in those eyes. Trembling violently, Massimo bowed low, in spite of the arthritic pain that burned like fire deep in his bones.
Many years ago, in a sunny garden at the Villa D’esta, a dark man had approached Massimo with information about his wife’s infidelity. He’d shown him pictures of Massimo’s unfaithful wife with her lover. The dark man had tormented him with the images before offering to kill them both for a small price. In his rage, Massimo had not only agreed, he had begged him to kill them. In return, the dark man asked only for certain small ‘services’ from time to time.
It was a decision Massimo had come to regret, for he realized it was one that had damned his immortal soul.
“What news have you brought me?” Sammael growled.
Relieved the message he bore would undoubtedly please his dark lord, Massimo answered, his voice shaking despite his attempt to control his fear. “He has been found, Master. In America. Louisiana.”
After being summoned inside, he reluctantly disclosed all he had discovered about Alan Fairfield, knowing soon there would be more blood on his hands.
Once the information was delivered, his dark lord made arrangements for a hasty exit. As he left, he called back over his shoulder, “Get rid of the mess in the bedroom and secure the house. I may be gone for a while.”
Massimo watched through the window as the black Mercedes sped off, the fiery pain in his bones intensifying to an unbearable level when his dark lord cast one last look at him from the car. Despite the crippling pain, he hurried towards the bedroom to carry out his Master’s bidding.
Nothing could have prepared him for the sight that awaited him in the next room.
Chapter 4
New York City – Present Day
“I’ll pick you up at eight o’clock tomorrow night,” her boyfriend, Matthew McLean, told Catherine over the phone. “Wear something sexy. I’ve got a birthday surprise planned.”
“I’ll be ready,” Cat said, endeavoring to keep her nervousness at the thought of his marriage proposal at bay. “See you then.”
“Love you.”
As soon as she ended the call, the phone rang again and she snatched up the receiver, hoping it was Granddad calling back to say the power was back, and everything was all right. But it was Jimmy, the doorman, calling from the lobby.
“Package just arrived by UPS for you, Miss Caldwell. Driver needs you to sign for it.”
“Thanks, I’ll come down,” she said.
In the foyer, she signed the driver’s form and then picked up a large parcel wrapped in brown paper. She recognized the neat script of Granddad’s handwriting on the return address.
“Present from your grandfather?” asked Jimmy. “Sorry, I couldn’t help noticing the return address.”
“Yes,” she said, smiling. “I wasn’t expecting it ‘til my birthday tomorrow, though.”
In the elevator, Cat turned the package over and over in her hands. She collected statuary, angelic statuary to be precise. Every year, starting with her sixteenth birthday, Granddad had given her a special piece for her collection. He was particularly knowledgeable on the subject of angelic lore, and his stories had always fascinated her as a child. Some of her happiest hours had been spent leafing through his enormous collection of old books about angels. The statues Granddad acquired for her were usually elaborately sculpted antiques, and she was sure this one would be as special as those she’d received in previous years.
Back in her apartment, she sat down on the couch to unwrap the package. After opening the top of the sturdy cardboard box, she removed some of the styrofoam packing. There was another box inside, about twenty-four inches square. Handling it with care, she lifted the lid, and saw the gift was encased in thick bubble wrap. Also in the box was a card, which she opened first.
Dearest Catherine,
I hope you derive as much pleasure from this gift as I took in selecting it for you. The Archangel Michael has always held a special significance for me, and I believe, in time, he will for you also. As he is the great protector, it comes with my blessing that he will always watch over you and all you hold dear.
Have a wonderful birthday, and let me know whether you are able to visit soon, as there is a matter of some importance I need to discuss with you.
With all my love, as always,
Granddad.
Catherine read the last part of the note with some trepidation. Was Granddad ill? A trickle of fear ran through her. She couldn’t stand the thought and almost reached for the phone to try him again. Then she remembered the gift and decided to open it first so she could thank him properly for it if she managed to get a call through.
Removing the protective wrapping, she was delighted to find an exquisitely detailed and hand-painted stone statuette of the Archangel Michael, which she guessed dated back to the seventeenth century. Her trained eye told her it was carved from Italian Vicenza stone. The piece was beautifully preserved and mounted on a baroque stand of the same material, although of a deeper hue. She placed the statuette, which stood about eighteen inches high, on the coffee table to study it. The Archangel was displayed in the classic pose in which he is almost always depicted: dressed for battle, one sandal-clad foot crushing the throat of Satan, and wielding an elaborate sword directed downward, poised to smite the demon.
Up until now, Cat’s most treasured piece had been a limestone sculpture of the Angel Gabriel. But one look at the superb rendering of the Archangel Michael, and she decided it must be given the place of honor in her collection, which she proudly displayed in the living area in a specially constructed
