Anghellic: Feathers and Fire Book 8

by Shayne Silvers

  He frowned, glancing over at me. “But you haven’t read my client’s agreement yet,” he said, sounding puzzled.

  “It’s not the fucking pre-nup!” I snapped. “I’m not marrying someone I don’t know, and I’m definitely not marrying a demon. We haven’t even gotten to that,” I said, pointing at the legal protection document—protections for the mysterious demon. Couldn’t let a vengeful wife divorce you and take half of your Hellish assets.

  “If you do not sign, Kansas City shall burn,” he said, squinting his eyes as he read a part of the partially unrolled document. Then he tapped it to show me, extending it my way. “It says so right here, if you wish to read it, first.”

  I scoffed, not bothering to fact-check him. I checked our surroundings, pretending that it wasn’t strange for everything to still be frozen. What was his angle? “You’re going to need a lot more back-up, pal.”

  He frowned over at me, pinching the end of his mustache again. “Now, that is just rude. We’ve been perfect gentledemons.”

  I narrowed my eyes, wondering why he’d said the plural when he was obviously alone. “Who are you, and what is this, really?”

  “We are Legion, Miss Penrose.”

  I stiffened, taking an involuntary step back as my stomach squirmed unpleasantly. Legion. That was the demon who was more than one demon if memory served. Denzel Washington had made a movie about it. Which meant the kindly old gentledemons, as he called himself, had plenty of backup.

  He noticed my anxiety and nodded. “We mean you no harm, Miss Penrose. You are the beautiful bride, after all.”

  I stared at the parchment. “You’re a crossroads demon. That’s a contract for selling my soul.”

  “Oh, don’t be ridiculous. This is about much more than your soul, my dear.”

  This was no longer a joke. This—whatever it was—was deadly serious. I couldn’t afford to piss him off and be taken away by a bajillion demons with one hive mind. I was good, but not that good. At least, I didn’t want to test that tonight.

  “And what do I get out of this arrangement?”

  He smiled approvingly. “Negotiation. Very good. Let me see,” he murmured, reading the tiny words on the long contract as he ran his finger down an insane number of lines. “Ah. Here it is. Kansas City shall not be immolated.”

  I suppressed the almost blinding surge of fury encouraging me to tip out Legion’s heart with my bare hands. For now, I needed to gather as much information as possible. I didn’t want to offend the demon until I’d had a chance to come up with a game plan and considered all of the consequences.

  “And what does my husband get?” I asked in a flat tone.

  He continued reading. “Kansas City, and you, of course.” He picked up a quill from within his briefcase. The tip was red, and I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the ink was blood.

  Likely from the last person who had used it to prick his finger and sign away his soul. Legion squinted at it and then took out a silk handkerchief to clean off the razor-sharp tip. Then he held it out to me. “There. All clean. Now, if you could please sign—”

  “I’m going to need to think on it, Legion.”

  He turned to look at me and I prepared myself for an all-out brawl. A slow smile crept over his face and he nodded, setting the quill back inside his briefcase. “Good for you, girl. You’ll want to have your lawyer read over it, first, no doubt. I commend you for that. Too many idiots running around, signing things all willy-nilly,” he grumbled, rolling the parchment back up and setting it down on the bench—along with the wedding invitation. He closed his briefcase and gently locked the clasps.

  Then he climbed to his feet, not taking offense at how rapidly I shuffled backwards a few steps. “Right. My lawyer. He’s…very busy. So busy.”

  Legion smiled warmly, causing his mustache to wiggle. Then he doffed his hat in a polite bow. “I shall check back in one week, Miss Penrose. Act swiftly. If more money is needed to get your lawyer’s attention, I have the authority to add his fee to the contract. One of my men will personally pay him a visit for you,” he said, his eyes twinkling dangerously. “Your fiancé is quite determined to stick to the schedule. He’s already made the invitations, after all,” he said, pointing at the card with a faint chuckle.

  I nodded hesitantly. “That won’t be necessary. I didn’t see a date for the ceremony,” I said, my mouth suddenly dry. “And I always expected a more traditional proposal,” I added, trying to stretch out the deadline.

  He beamed. “My client seems fairly set on Christmas Day. Stick it to the Man, as the kids say these days.”

  “Jesus’ birthday,” I said, forcing my voice to remain steady.

  “And I will inform him of your demand for a traditional proposal. It is an excellent idea.” I opened my mouth to assure him that it wasn’t necessary because I already had my answer, but he spoke right over me. “Oh, and you may have six in your bridal party.” Of course it was six. “Well, I’m sure you have much to think about this evening. Let me be the first to say, welcome to the family, my dear.”

  Then he bowed again, and shuffled down the sidewalk, tapping his cane as he began to whistle a song that had probably been popular a hundred years ago.

  My knees wobbled, but I forced myself to remain standing, staring at the departing demon—even after he’d rounded the corner and my surroundings suddenly returned to normal speed. The dogwalkers hurried past me with an annoyed look since I was standing in the middle of the sidewalk.

  I made my way over to the bench and snatched up Legion’s parchment and invitation with a snarl. I almost hoped they did poison me on the spot.

  Tonight had gone to shit. Officially.

  I hadn’t even gotten a proper proposal. Unless Legion had a talk with my husband-to-be. Why had I said anything? Now, I had to worry about being jumped in the street by a demon wanting to express his undying love—probably with a display of gratuitous violence to however many people happened to be standing around me at the time.

  “Gentledemon,” I muttered, as I considered where I wanted to go. I definitely didn’t want to talk to anyone about my feelings or explain why I had a wedding invitation with only my name on it.

  I tore open a Gateway and stepped through to Solomon’s Temple.

  It was fair to say that I already had cold feet.

  3

  I didn’t want my friends terrorizing Kansas City in search of me, so I pulled out my phone and sent Claire a brief text.

  I’m fine. Went to clear my head.

  I had snuck away from Castle Dracula without telling anyone, needing to get away from the constant hubbub of being the new Dracula—a figure everyone feared and obeyed. I’d wanted to walk the streets of a city where I could feel invisible again. A place where no one was afraid of me.

  Except…the terrified, ice-cream serving werewolf had reminded me that, in Kansas City, many were afraid of me. There, I was the White Rose—a notorious vigilante who killed any monsters who did so much as jaywalk. And now I had this Legion bullshit to deal with. His mysterious demon client wanted to marry me, or he was going to burn Kansas City to the ground.

  I pocketed my phone and leaned my elbows on the railing, staring out over the vibrant green gardens and fields stretching into the distance like a patchwork quilt. Everything was lush and nurturing, except for one specific spot. Where I had moved Castle Dracula was a black stain on the land, because the walled domain was enshrouded in the darkness of eternal night. From my higher elevation at Solomon’s Temple, I could make out a few of the most notable landmarks like the Clocktower, the Castle Keep—where my friends were probably pacing with worry—and what I thought might be the Observatory.

  One of the first official decrees I had made was to announce that Castle Dracula now operated on central time since I was from Kansas City. Depending on the time of year, and whether daylight saving time was in effect on Earth, Callie Standard Time and Callie Dracula Time covered all the acronyms. No one at Castle Dracula had
cared since it was always dark, but I had considered it a win.

  The grounds were enclosed within a daunting fifty-foot tall stone wall with bricks the size of small cars. Despite how impossible it seemed, I saw a pale, glowing orb within the sky over that stygian darkness—Castle Dracula had its own moon, independent of the sun and moon at Solomon’s Temple. From here, it was oddly chilling, like I was staring into an evil snow globe.

  Seeing the sunny fields and glowing white structure of Solomon’s Temple from within the perimeter of Castle Dracula was equally unsettling. You were standing in eternal night yet could clearly see a sun in the distance. It was like looking through a murky window.

  My evil snow globe was filled with murderous monsters who were still coming to terms with their new non-vampire boss. A small faction had even rebelled and occasionally caused some murder and mayhem before retreating back to their unknown hideout. So, Ryuu, my ninja bodyguard, and Xylo, formerly known as Abel, were constantly waiting for danger. Xylo walked with a pep to his step, these days—his time with Cain had given him a newfound confidence in himself. He still suffered bouts of pessimism, but they were lessening; Cain’s exuberant optimism was taking firm root in his long-lost brother, much like a lifeline thrown to a drowning man at sea.

  Which was a great way to say sorry for murdering you, bro.

  I let out a frustrated sigh, not wanting to think about the rebels or Castle Dracula’s politics right now. I didn’t want to think of my friends. I didn’t even want to think of Nate Temple—who had been brought to the forefront of my mind thanks to Legion’s visit.

  Kansas City will not be immolated, he had said. As long as I married a demon. Presumably, someone high up on the food chain if the guy had Legion running his errands.

  But the biggest concern was that Legion—and whomever else—had escaped Hell the moment I removed Excalibur from my soul. Was that why my parents had wanted to hide me? Had they known that a demon wanted to marry me? Even as a baby in the womb?

  That was beyond unnerving, let alone disgusting.

  But my parents hadn’t just been hiding me from Hell. They had also wanted to hide me from Heaven. Should I be expecting a marriage proposal from an angel soon? I grimaced at the thought. They were trying to force me into choosing a groom from either Heaven or Hell. Either choice would result in a war.

  With Kansas City in the middle.

  “This is batshit insane,” I growled, turning away from the balcony, and walking into the temple. I knew Sanguina was sleeping in my mother’s laboratory. Maybe she would have some insight; although, the powerful Beast didn’t strike me as the type of friend for weddings and boy talk. Power and destruction, sure.

  Thankfully, neither Solomon nor Richard—who went by Last Breath when in his bipedal white lion form—were awake. Or at least they weren’t walking around the place to find me lurking, unannounced. Solomon had a very unhealthy desire to study Sanguina, so it was safer for everyone if my visit—and her presence in the laboratory—remained unknown.

  My morning had started off eventfully. Knowing how loyal and unquestionably brave Phix, the Sphinx, had been in keeping my city safe in my absence over the last year, I’d finally asked her if she wanted the job of being my figurative horse in my role as Horseman of Despair. She’d spent a few minutes dancing around excitedly and purring like a locomotive before adamantly accepting. And about two minutes later, the Horseman of Death had made an unannounced visit, declaring that Phix was required to join him for a training camp on the job particulars.

  I had not invited him or told him about my decision to choose Phix as my mount.

  But a quick call had confirmed that Nate Temple’s unicorn, Grimm, and an unnamed third horse would be joining Phix for the training, so I had reluctantly agreed. With three mounts picked, it meant only one member of our new squad needed to find one. Either Gunnar, the Horseman of Justice and alpha werewolf of St. Louis, or Alucard, the Horseman of Absolution and Daywalker Master Vampire of St. Louis, were without a ride.

  Phix would let me know the details when I saw her next—which I hoped would be soon. I could use her comforting presence and razor-sharp claws on my hunt for rebels in Castle Dracula or demons in Kansas City. Especially now that I was marriage material.

  As I quietly made my way to the lab, I found myself absently fondling the silver butterfly charm in my hand—my Horseman’s Mask. I’d based the concealment design on a romantic gift Nate Temple had given me when we’d first kissed. Tonight’s visit from Legion had stirred up feelings I had suppressed for entirely too long, and for good reason. My romantic feelings for Nate were a mixed bag these days.

  Scratch that. The part of my heart that held him close was currently barren and storming.

  We’d played the longest courtship game in modern history, teasing each other with a single kiss and a whole lot of sexual angst over years. I missed a step, pausing in the middle of the dim hallway. “Am I really that horny?” Solomon’s Temple provided no answer, leaving my voice to echo into nothingness.

  Typical.

  I analyzed the part of me that longed for the day Nate and I could finally focus on us. We’d always pushed it down the line, promising each other we would do so later, when monsters and gods were not actively trying to wipe their asses with the very fabric of reality and flush humanity down the drain.

  My frustration had all seemingly come to a head during our last encounter several days ago, when I’d caught him trying to steal a book from me. In an act of pettiness, I’d allowed Ryuu to secretly hold a sword to Nate’s back, wanting to teach him a lesson for trying to rob me. Except it had backfired when Nate sensed the ninja, trapped him, threatened to kill him, and then called me out for risking my ninja’s life by not stopping it sooner.

  It had been the perfect storm, bringing up emotions I hadn’t known I’d been carrying around. He’d made a mistake in trying to steal from me—even though it had only been a book I’d been holding onto for him, and he’d only stolen it so as to give me plausible deniability with the Norse gods. Nate’s good intentions in trying to keep me out of the blast radius of whatever Norse pipe bomb he had been fiddling with had been both endearing and infuriating. In his aims to keep me safe, he had inadvertently succeeded in blowing up a bridge between us—or at least damaging some of the key supporting arches.

  My mistake had been reacting emotionally—understandably so, after being robbed—by using Ryuu to teach Nate some humility. I hadn’t spoken to Nate since.

  Upon later reflection, I realized that the tension had been building up between the two of us for quite some time. I’d unknowingly been harboring anger at him for not making our relationship a priority during the recent, relatively peaceful, month. He hadn’t called, asked me on a date, sent me flowers, or even invited me over for a movie. The only other encounter I’d recently had with Nate had been a few weeks ago.

  Pandora had called to tell me that Nate urgently needed my help to fight Mordred, and that it was finally time for me to return Excalibur’s sheath to the new King Arthur, a young man named Alex Arete, who was friends with Nate.

  The legendary sword had been broken up into numerous pieces and hidden away over the past couple decades. One of those pieces—the Name—had been hidden inside me, of all places, when I was a baby. It was how my loving parents had come up with my name—ex-Callie-bur.

  That decision—made by my parents collaborating with Nate’s parents, because of course they had been friends without informing us somehow—had actually protected me from the forces of Heaven and Hell hunting me down as a result of my parents’ long list of crimes. It had served as a protective ward. But it had been time to give it back—to re-forge the infamous sword, Excalibur.

  Alucard and Gunnar had also gotten calls from Pandora to help Nate in Fae.

  And that was when Nate gave them the other two Horsemen Masks—Absolution and Justice, respectively—and finally completed our posse. The act of handing out the last two Masks had served to
heal Nate’s own damaged Horseman Mask, because the new Four Horsemen were a brotherhood, and functioned best when working in harmony.

  Since Nate had delayed handing out the other two Masks for so long, his own Mask had fractured—hence, Pandora’s call. So, I’d arrived in Fae, and given Alex the sheath and power of my Name to fully repair the mythical blade. We’d all put on our Masks, and then…

  Well, a whole lot of nothing had transpired on our ends. Because that had pretty much been all Nate needed from his new Horsemen. Alex had stepped in and helped Nate destroy Mordred.

  While the three other Horsemen sat on our thumbs. Then we’d all gone home. That had been my only other encounter with Nate. I’d given Excalibur—part of my soul—away at the expense of my protection from Heaven and Hell. If that wasn’t sacrifice, I didn’t know what was.

  Long story short, we had squandered our month of reprieve, crossing paths only the one other time, when he’d tried robbing me. And the results had been predictably disastrous—one or both of the men could have been killed.

  Thankfully, the two had parted as respected, hesitant allies, and Ryuu had kept the offending katana that Nate had melted as a reminder of his near death experience. Because he was a man, and men did stupid things like that all the time.

  Then again, women did plenty of stupid things like that all the time, too.

  Like, for example, secretly wanting to test Nate’s strength and ability to lead the Horsemen by sending a highly trained, and extremely lethal, ninja against him. To see just how good Nate really was, and if his abilities lived up to his rapidly growing reputations.

  But that was just a hypothetical example…right?

  Either way, the experiment had been concluded with clear and concise results, leaving behind a warped katana like a bold exclamation mark.

  4

  Afterwards, Nate had been forced to talk to me on a professional level—Horseman to Horseman. Captain to soldier, because he led our squad of Horsemen, and me allowing Ryuu to hold a sword to the lead Horseman’s back was clearly a grievous error in judgment. Nate had not allowed me to hide from the consequences of my decision. If he had let it slide, I probably would have—subconsciously, at least—lost a lot of respect for him for being too soft. As Horsemen, we rose and fell together, and we were only as strong as our weakest link.