“Their offices are on the second floor,” Midas offered in a low murmur, pointing at a set of stairs to our right. He had taken off his gloves, revealing strong, calloused hands, not the soft, manicured digits I had expected. He looked oddly comfortable, as if he had dusted off an old but familiar skillset from his youth. Maybe he wouldn’t be the liability I had feared.
I knew Asterion could handle himself in a fight, but I had been concerned about Midas. Liking to watch fights was different than being good at fighting. Take the UFC, for instance. Everyone who put on an Affliction shirt suddenly felt they were invincible, as if the brand was the modern-day equivalent of Hercules’ Nemean Lion Cloak – which I knew for a fact was hoarded in Nate’s private stash.
Being a fanboy was different than being a fighter.
But Midas’ knuckles looked scarred, matching up with his sudden comfort. Then again, he could always just turn his enemies into gold statues with a touch, so he would probably be fine.
“What did Beckett say?” I asked Claire, creeping up the creaking stairs. She had texted him as we walked over here.
“He didn’t answer. I gave him the address and said we might have a lead on a missing woman.”
I nodded. Hopefully, the missing woman phrase would catch his attention. If not, it had only been a courtesy call anyway, since the three men had been human. Might need official handling.
Reaching the top of the stairs, I spotted a tall set of double doors across the landing. I could hear faint music and conversation behind it. I glanced over my shoulder at Asterion. “Do you mind hanging back until I can verify there aren’t any Regulars inside?”
Asterion snorted unhappily, folding his arms. I gave Midas a nod, and Claire a wicked grin.
“You’re my wild card. If things go badly, drop the robe,” I told her.
She blinked at me. “You want me to flash a bunch of witches.”
“The element of surprise.”
“I think it’s the element of indecent exposure, and you had me call the cops ahead of time, so now it’s premeditated.”
Midas nodded his agreement.
“We have our game plan,” I said, as if she hadn’t spoken. Then I approached the doors, ignoring her hissed curses behind me.
I took a deep breath, and then called out my black-feathered fan immediately before me – so that it could both protect me if the occupants decided to shoot, but appear to be a normal fan in my hand if they were Regulars.
I gripped the door handles and heaved both open at the same time, hoping to clear my line of vision into the room. A wall of fragrant blue smoke and the haunting sounds of Enya’s greatest hits rolled over me as if I had just found Cheech and Chong’s love palace.
I blinked as my eyes adjusted, realizing it was actually a small ballroom of sorts, maybe enough for a hundred people to move around freely without feeling liked packed sardines.
A long table sat in the center of the room, but…
Dozens of sheer silk curtains hanging from the ceiling in various pastel hues created the illusion of walls, breaking the area around the table into a handful of smaller areas that were furnished by mismatched lounging couches, daybeds, padded benches, or even piles of thick pillows strewn across the floor. Since the hanging silk walls were basically transparent, there really wasn’t any privacy. And there really should have been some privacy police on standby.
About a dozen people had been strutting around the room, murmuring softly to each other as they gazed upon the carnal activities of an equal number of people who were using the furniture like bedroom-parkour props. Many of the pairings were quite unique and imaginative.
I saw a man with long, blonde hair handing out hand towels to two women as they… finished with a dark-haired man who was lying back on a couch, hands folded behind his head as he caught his breath. The two women toweled off, and then tossed the cloths into a nearby bin. One of them pointed at another group, giggling as she tugged her bedmate after her to join in on the second round of fun, obviously not quite fulfilled yet.
I shook my head at the blonde man handing out towels, but he was facing the other direction, so he didn’t see my sympathy. Talk about the worst job ever.
One group in particular seemed to be going for the record of how many people they could fit into their orgy, like building a house of cards until it all fell down. They didn’t notice my arrival.
But the rest of the room slowly began to notice…
All conversation and recreational activities slowly died out. Except for the record-breakers, who were still bringing their ‘A’ game to their cause.
I didn’t move, just as surprised as the inhabitants. One woman – skin the color of obsidian and not a stitch to conceal it – stared at me from only ten paces away, her white teeth stark against her dark skin. She glistened as if she had just been freshly oiled.
I felt someone step up from behind me, sigh, and then I saw my fluffy pink robe fall to the ground. “Ta-da!” Claire said in a confident cheer. It seemed to have the desired effect, because everyone seemed to relax, resuming their entertainment. Two naked women even giggled as they slipped into one of the areas to join those already having fun.
I groaned, shaking my head. Perhaps now we did fit in better, but I wasn’t about to get down to my skin in front of strangers, no matter how much better it made them feel.
A sound made me glance over to spot a man sitting on an elaborate Persian rug.
Except his carpet was hovering about a dozen feet in the air. His bald head was covered in a single large tattoo, and he wore only a kilt. He had a tiger the size of a Yorkie on his lap – and when I say tiger, I don’t mean a cub. This was an adult-proportioned tiger, just… miniature. It snarled in my direction, an angry, spitting sound that I almost couldn’t hear over the sound of the Reddi Wip can suddenly ejecting its mother-load into the man’s mouth.
Sensing the tiger’s annoyance, he turned to look as he swallowed the whipped cream. I recognized him from a party at Dorian Gray’s mansion. Mike Arthur. I waved at him uncertainly, giving him a crooked smile. “I’ve seen you bef—” I began.
He chucked the can of whipped cream at me, cutting me short as he slapped his palm down on the rug behind him like he was slapping a horse’s rump. I ducked the can, hearing it hit the wall behind me. Mike Arthur’s rug bucked once before it zipped across the room in a blur. He hit the large glass window on the opposite side of the room that faced the street, and then exploded through it, sailing off into the night on his magic carpet, shrieking, “FREEDOM!”
Everyone began to scream, swiping up the nearest articles of clothing in a panic.
The human house of cards even collapsed into a sweaty pile.
“Damn you, Mike Arthur,” I muttered, watching as all my plans went to hell.
Chapter 26
Thunderous boots stomping behind me announced Asterion ducking his horned head into the room, blocking off any possibility of escape. Not concerned with hiding magic anymore, I ran through the crowd and over to the window, tearing through the silk walls. I had to hurdle a few bodies still untangling themselves from their romp, but I ignored their shouts. I finally reached the broken window, fearing that I was about to find a dozen pedestrians on their way home from work shouting variants of What the fuck? Was that a flying carpet?
What I saw was much worse.
Six figures moved through the gathering darkness, approaching the building from various points across the street, but in coordination. Probably alerted by the fucking magic carpet. They wore dark, practical clothes, and white scarves with splashes of red on the front. I growled furiously.
“Fucking Templars,” a familiar voice murmured beside me, also staring out the window. I spun to see Dorian Gray angrily shaking his head at the approaching men. “Are they here for you?”
I continued to stare at him, momentarily forgetting the Templars. “You said you had a Board Meeting!” I finally snapped.
“I’m on the Board for the Hellfire Club,”
he admitted with an easy shrug, as if we had just run into each other at the grocery store. He held his hand out to indicate the crowd of sweaty people frantically tugging on clothes. “Meeting,” he explained absently, “and the best one in town, I might add.” He had black lipstick kisses on his face, his hair was messed up, and he wore only a pair of tight – I glanced down – very tight leather pants. “I thought you said you had a date tonight,” he said in a judgmental tone.
I muttered darkly, turning to check how much time we had. The Templars had seen me in the window and had given up all pretense of stealth, now huddling together, planning their attack since they had lost the element of surprise. We had a few minutes, because they would enter cautiously, alert for threats on their way up.
“I don’t know why they’re here,” I finally said, watching the Templars discussing their options. “Maybe they’re following me, or maybe they’re hunting one of your members. That’s why I’m here in the first place. Checking up on a woman in your group.” I briefly took my eyes from the street to see his reaction.
Dorian pursed his lips in concern – as if debating sharing information like that with me. Not that he didn’t trust me, but that he didn’t want to hand over one of his apparent group members.
The crowd had huddled into one mass near the head of the table, no longer shrieking as they saw Dorian talking to me amicably. They still looked terrified, but not of the incoming threat. Of me and my friends.
I blinked, recognizing a handsome blonde-haired guy. His eyes met mine and he dropped the stack of white hand towels he was holding, face blanching in panic. Faebio. I thought he had looked familiar.
Dorian sensed my attention and gripped my shoulder. “Easy, Callie. He’s here to earn money to pay off a certain debt. He said he only had forty-eight hours,” Dorian said.
I turned to Dorian, blinking. “Are you serious?”
Dorian nodded. “He said you were quite… insistent.”
I shook my head disgustedly. “Yeah, but sanitary towels? Good god, I thought I was cruel.”
Dorian shrugged impassively. “He doesn’t mind, and the pay is good. Better than seeking gang protection for when the Templars come calling.”
I stared at him. “Wait, he’s scared of the Templars? I thought it was a rival gang.”
Dorian frowned at me as if I were daft. “Everyone is scared of them. They’ve been scooping up people left and right for weeks.”
So that was the cause of the sudden rise in gang activity. It was lone freaks forming packs. For protection. And I had been hunting them. Just like the Templars. I shivered guiltily.
But… they had been criminals, too. They could have formed gangs without breaking into cars. Still, a small part of me felt responsible.
I glanced back out the window. The Templars were still huddled, but looked to be close to reaching a decision, several of them nodding. “You need to get these people to safety. I doubt they’ll listen to me.”
Claire was trying to speak to a few of the guests, looking completely comfortable in the nude, of course. They gave her a bit of credit for wearing the right outfit to the board meeting, but I could tell they didn’t completely trust her. “How?” Dorian asked. “What if the Templars have more men waiting out back?”
Midas had approached, holding out his hand. “Not the best answer, but I have two dusty old balls, here.”
Dorian coughed in an attempt to cover up an outburst of laughter.
Midas must have realized how it had sounded. “Two Tiny Balls,” he corrected.
Dorian actually burst out laughing this time.
“It’s what he named them!” Midas growled defensively. “Tiny Balls.”
I placed a hand on his shoulder in thanks, recognizing the glass marbles in his palm. Instant Gateways. Nate Temple’s company, Grimm Tech, had designed them. “Perfect. Only the heavies will be of use against the Templars,” I thought out loud. “You can use one for a ruse – if necessary – and the other for your true escape.”
Midas nodded, snatching Dorian by the hand and tugging him back to the crowd of frightened naked monsters. I winced, glad that Midas seemed able to control his turning things to gold ability, or Dorian would have become a solid golden statue. Or maybe his painting would have suddenly turned to solid gold, or something.
I snapped out of my thoughts when I noticed that Dorian’s pants actually had cutouts to reveal his bare ass cheeks.
I stared, dumbfounded, unable to avert my eyes for a second or two. Three. Four…
I heard glass break as Midas tossed his Tiny Balls on the ground, opening up Gateways to… well, I hadn’t checked with Midas on that part, but I was betting St. Louis. Within moments, everyone was jumping through them, not remotely concerned with where they took them.
A distant part of me realized that Midas would appear to be saving the Hellfire Club, possibly granting him their trust. All in all, his real estate purchase had been quite fruitful. I saw Dorian and his bare ass hop through the Gateway holding hands with… I cursed.
A young, brown-haired woman in a long coat that I hadn’t noticed participating in the night’s frivolities. I couldn’t be sure, but it could have been the same one I had been searching for.
Damn Mike Arthur. He’d ruined everything.
I focused back to the task at hand as the Gateway winked shut. I turned to find Claire and Asterion panting, watching me. I nodded at Claire, snapping my fingers.
“It’s time to fuck some shit up,” I told her.
“Hard and fast,” she agreed. “Let’s pound them, man-cow,” she grinned at Asterion. He grunted his agreement, kissing his prayer beads before extending his fist for her to bump.
She grinned at the gesture, meeting his knuckles with an actual punch. Asterion smiled.
Then Claire exploded into a giant polar bear. I pulled out my pistols as the sound of pounding feet reached the top of the stairs outside the open doorway.
Chapter 27
I had fought Templars before, but I couldn’t say the same for my allies. I realized that the Templars had no way of knowing who was in the room. Or how many. They had obviously been scoping the place out, so must have been aware there was some kind of… board meeting taking place. They’d only moved to action after the enigmatic Mike Arthur and his tiny tiger blew through the window on his magic carpet, quoting Mel Gibson in Braveheart.
“It’s just me, boys. Come on in!” I shouted out at them.
Asterion and Claire slipped back against the wall, surprisingly fast and silent, hidden from immediate view behind some of the couches and shifting silken streamers hanging from the ceiling, blown about by the wind through the now-broken window.
“Hand over the woman!” a man shouted, voice muffled from his scarf.
“I just told you. I’m alone.”
The Whispers chose that moment to chuckle deep within me. I shivered, unsure what to make of it. They had experience with me killing Templars, and were likely recalling the experience, remembering every spurt of blood. Sinners, they repeated hungrily, just like last time in Rome.
“I’m entering alone,” the same voice called out as I suppressed the Whispers. No matter how true they were in judging the Templars, I didn’t want to relish in that judgment.
A few moments later, a man stepped into the open doorway, but he didn’t step into the room. I lowered my pistols to my sides and jerked my chin at him.
His eyes flickered about the room, checking for any surprises, but they weren’t far enough in to notice the two massive, hairy monsters tucked against the wall.
He met my eyes. “You…”
“Me,” I agreed. “Whatcha doing here?”
“This is none of your concern.”
“All of Kansas City is my concern, Templar. Just like your men are your concern.”
“We know all about you, Temptress,” he spat. Literally spat on the floor. Well, it probably wasn’t the most unsanitary substance on the ground right now.
“T
emptress? That’s new. Are you talking about Rome? How’s Ol—”
“Do not say his name!”
I shrugged. “Okay. How is your new werewolf mascot doing?” I asked instead.
He practically seethed. “This situation isn’t your concern,” he said, gesturing at the room. “These are the unwashed, the unclean. They are stained. If you get in our way, we will remove you. Permanently.”
I rolled my eyes, not pointing out the contradiction of his boss. “Did you really bring six Templars to capture one woman?” I asked. Because I was pretty sure I now knew who had been chasing the brunette. Templars. Just as they had chased Faebio. “And how did you find us?”
“I brought more than six, Temptress,” he said, stepping back into the gloomy hallway like a cheap movie villain. “You have five seconds to get out of the room,” his voice called out.
I grumbled unhappily, discreetly motioning for my friends to hunker down low.
“One…” he called out.
“Five!” I blurted, rushing his planned schedule.
And I unloaded both clips in a torrent of bullets at the wall above Claire and Asterion. I knew Claire was bulletproof, and I was sure the man-cow knew how to take a stray bullet like a woman, not some whimpering man.
The Templars, on the other hand, began to shout and curse, several shrieking in pain as some of my barrage struck direct hits as they tore through the drywall. My gun ran empty and I held out my hand discreetly to tell my friends to stay low – to wait for return fire.
I openly yawned as I saw a face peer through a larger hole in the wall. Then I very quickly called upon my black feathered fan, placing it before me as I crouched. Their return salvo was almost instantaneous, hammering into my feather fan with sharp pings like metal on metal.
They clicked empty and silence reigned. I lowered my fan, peering through the dust from the broken drywall. I spotted the white of an eye before I dropped my chin.
Asterion head-butted the wall, one of his horns taking Mr. Peeper through the eye, producing a bloodcurdling shriek. Then Claire threw herself entirely through the wall and screams of surprise and more gunfire erupted. I stared through the dusty air, horrified by the screams, gunfire, and roars, but almost as soon as it had begun, the hallway was silent.
Angel's Roar: Feathers and Fire Book 4 Page 12
