Blood Ties: A Grace Harper Novel

by J. T. Hardy

  "You can't do this!" I twisted, kicked, bucked, but Rocky had me tight.

  "Secure her."

  Rude Dude and his buddy came forward as Rocky lifted me over the altar's steps.

  "Let me go!"

  Rude Dude grabbed my legs. The other tied me down with white silk to the gold rings embedded in the altar. Rocky held me with one hand on my throat while the other two bound my arms above my head.

  Strapped down like a sacrifice. I'd had a lot of nightmares about this day, but none had ever included this.

  A breeze ruffled my hair and Suriel appeared at my shoulder, carrying a worn gold cup the size of my first, with a curved spout on one side, and two prongs on the other, spaced about an inch apart.

  I gulped, bile hot and bitter in my throat.

  He was going to tap me like a keg.

  "You don't want to do this," I said, licking my dry lips. "You read the fine print? This ritual of yours could cause the end of the world."

  He pressed his fingers against my chin and pushed my head to the side. I pushed back, my neck muscles straining, but even his fingers were stronger than I was.

  "Look, if it's blood you want we can work out a deal. I'll donate a few pints every month like I'm the Red Cross. Your own private blood bank."

  Fingers pulled the skin above my carotid artery taut.

  "Wait, Suriel," Kokabiel said. "You must learn patience."

  Suriel rumbled low in his throat, but stepped away from me as muffled shouts drifted in from another room. Zack and the others?

  Please be a rescue, please oh please.

  It didn't sound like fighting, though it did sound angry, maybe righteous. A minion with a gun entered the cathedral, a man in tow. My hopes sank.

  "Cavanaugh?"

  He stumbled, his eyes wide, his face bruised, with a nasty cut on his cheek. He clearly hadn't come willingly, but he shouldn't have been here at all. He was supposed to be with Libby at the hospital. They were both supposed to be safe.

  "Grace! Oh no, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

  The minion brought him to the altar. Kokabiel snapped his fingers and another minion brought over a flat, museum-quality wooden box inset with jewels and gold filigree. He lifted the lid and presented the box to Cavanaugh.

  Cavanaugh stared into it, his brow wrinkled, his expression confused.

  "Priest," said Kokabiel, a hint of respect in his voice. "You will perform for us this service."

  I twitched. They thought they had Dandridge.

  "Prepare the offering for the Sacrament of Sacraments."

  I did not like the sound of "offering." I didn't even like the word "priest" right now.

  Cavanaugh paled and shook his head. "No."

  I waited for the "I'm not a priest, idiot," but none came. Maybe he was playing it smart. They'd probably kill him if they knew they'd grabbed the wrong guy.

  "You will bless the blood."

  "No."

  Suriel appeared beside him and pressed a long, thin knife to his throat. My breath caught and Cavanaugh stiffened, his head held high, defiant. If we survived, I owed him a bunch of apologies.

  "Hear me," Suriel said, the same indifference in his voice. "I don't share his belief. I don't believe a human prayer will have any effect on the validity of its blood. Do not refuse his command again."

  Cavanaugh's jaw tightened, resolve burning in his eyes that warned he was going to refuse and then some. He didn't realize Suriel cared more for his shirts than he did us.

  "Hang on a minute," I said, straining against the silk. "He'll do it! Just let me talk to him."

  Suriel hesitated, but he shifted his scowl to me. I was tired of that sidelong sneer.

  "Put the blade away, Suriel," Kokabiel scolded. "This should be a joyous occasion."

  The knife withdrew.

  Cavanaugh sucked in a ragged breath, and grabbed his neck with one hand. "This isn't going to work. You can't command miracles," he said.

  Kokabiel smiled. "You can. You've been blessed with such power and you will manifest it for us, in her most precious blood. Take the sacred book of your people. Perform the ritual on our altar. Bring about the miracle so we may return home."

  "If I don't?"

  Kokabiel said nothing, but Suriel's eyes gleamed and he ran a finger along the edge of the knife. "We'll find another priest who will."

  "Hey," I said, my voice trembling almost as badly as he was. All he had to do was fake it. "It's only a little blood. No one has to die."

  "You don't understand." He looked at me, his eyes wide, scared. "He wants me to perform the Eucharist. He wants me to offer communion with your blood."

  I pictured people lined up to get a thin wafer and a sip of wine. I was nobody's buffet. Wait...that was awfully specific--

  Holy crap, he is a priest? How could he be a priest? I'd never seen him in a collar, or with a cross or anything.

  Suriel stepped forward with his knife, but Kokabiel stopped him with a gaze. Then he looked at me.

  "Your priests perform this miracle every day. You, holy daughter, can grant us a soul so we may enter Heaven."

  "Like hell I will. I'll make you choke on it."

  "I won't do it," Cavanaugh said.

  Suriel tapped the knife tip against Cavanaugh's cheek. "Then it dies."

  "Bet I get to Heaven before you do," he said.

  Suriel flicked the knife across Cavanaugh's cheek. He grunted and blood welled. Kokabiel shook his head and pulled Suriel's blade away. "Have you learned nothing?"

  "Only that we were fools to lie with these creatures."

  "Let's correct that mistake." Kokabiel took Cavanaugh's face in his hands. "You will do this for us."

  My skin tingled. I knew that look. He'd used it on me outside the plaza. Suriel had even tried it, but it hadn't done more than annoy me. Cavanaugh had almost succumbed from across a parking lot. He didn't stand a chance this close.

  Cavanaugh's eyes glazed and he trembled.

  "You will perform the sacrament and send us home."

  Cavanaugh's shoulders dropped and the tension left his body. He reached into the box and pulled out the ancient Bible.

  "Stop it!" I twisted sideways, useless, but Kokabiel took my hand and squeezed it gently, then patted my head.

  "Shh, be still, child."

  His skin was cool against mine. Two can play mind games, Bucko. If they could shove crap into my head, maybe I could shove it into theirs.

  I pictured the flash of Daniel's curved blade ripping through Kokabiel's throat, as graphic and violent and bloody as the goriest slasher movie I'd ever seen. I imagined his perfectly muscular body breaking into a million pieces and shattering all over the room. I pressed the images into his mind like I'd press that knife into his throat.

  He gasped and stepped away, and the barest hint of fear flickered across his features. Cavanaugh staggered back, pale and sweaty.

  Kokabiel looked at his hand, then at me, and grinned bright as the sun. "Such power through a mere touch," he whispered. A rock formed in the pit of my stomach. "I told you she was special."

  Suriel hesitated, looking from me to Kokabiel as if debating if my blood did indeed do a body good. If he decided they didn't need Cavanaugh...

  "Will you two wait one freaking minute," I said. "If he does your communion, will you let him go?"

  Kokabiel rubbed one finger along his jawline in a creepy all-too-human gesture. "We'll have no use for him after we've returned."

  Such insane certainty of that, no matter how many times he must have done this before and failed. But never with my blood and a priest to do the ritual. Crap, maybe it would work.

  "Here's the deal," I said, giving Cavanaugh a quick play-along look. "He'll bless me and my grade-A blood, you let him go. But we do it right. No half-assing the ritual sacrifice."

  He pondered it. "Agreed."

  "I get last words."

  Kokabiel looked confused, and so did Cavanaugh. "Last rites?" Cavanaugh asked.

 
; "No, the other one." Dammit, the term was right there, I just couldn't remember-- "Confession! I get confession first."

  Cavanaugh's eyes brightened and he nodded fast. "Yes, I have to hear her confession and absolve her of her sins or her soul won't be clean." He wiped his upper lip and looked Kokabiel right in the eyes. "You want to manifest a clean soul, don't you?"

  He nodded once. "I do."

  Suriel scoffed and looked like he wanted to gut all three of us. "It's stalling."

  "Perhaps. We've waited millennia. I won't indulge your impatience and risk her lineage." Kokabiel turned to Cavanaugh. "Proceed."

  "Um, confession is a private matter."

  "Her sins are irrelevant to me."

  "Not to God." Cavanaugh crossed his arms and held his head high, though the tips of his fingers trembled. "She gets to confess in private, without judgment. That's how it works if you want this done right."

  Suriel stalked off, muttering in his angel language that seemed really suited to swearing. I bet even sweet nothings sounded like curses.

  Kokabiel hesitated, but nodded. "Very well. We'll wait until it's complete." He turned and walked away, gesturing to the others to follow. They trailed him to the far end of the cathedral and gathered by the doors like they were waiting for a store to open.

  I sighed. "Bless me Father, for I have been a stupid, stupid person."

  He frowned. "You know I'm not really hearing your--"

  "Oh for crying out loud, of course not!"

  "All right. But yes, you have."

  After we got out of here, he could lecture me all he wanted and I'd take it without complaint.

  "What are you doing here?"

  "One of those things grabbed me out of my car when I tried to follow you."

  "You left Libby!"

  He winced. "No, Aaron and the paramedics were with her."

  "She's alive?"

  "I think so."

  A bit of weight lifted off my chest. At least something good happened today. I took a breath and looked at Cavanaugh. He faced me on the altar, his back to Kokabiel and the others. Not the best cover, but it would do.

  "Listen, act all priestly, but see if you can get me loose." I glanced up toward my wrists, hidden from the fangels by his body.

  "Technically, I always act priestly."

  "We are so having a conversation about that later, Father Sneakypants. You should have told me."

  "It was easier not to." He spoke Latin and waved his hand over me, his other hand working at the knot on my wrists.

  And then what?

  Where would we go? If we tried to leave this room there were at least five fangels who'd be on us in a heartbeat. If we got out of the lair, Zack and the others were still trapped inside. If we somehow managed to get them and us outside, how would we get away? Hope the minions left the van running out front, gassed up with the keys in the ignition and Red in the bushes taking a leak?

  "We're not getting out of this," I said, more realization than confession. "Not unless Daniel followed you here."

  "Who's Daniel?"

  Oh boy. "A friend I'd hoped could help. I'm so sorry, Cavanaugh."

  "It's not your fault. I chose to look for these things, and I chose to come after you. I'm a Catholic priest. Fighting evil is what we do, remember?"

  The silk pulled loose and he squeezed my hand. From him, the gesture was comforting.

  I smiled despite how hopeless this was. "It would be a lot easier if they were demon vamps. At least then we'd have ideas on how to fight them."

  Cavanaugh froze, and his fingers tightened on mine. "Great idea." He turned his back to me and opened the Bible. "She's ready for the blessing," he called.

  The what? No, I wasn't.

  Kokabiel swooshed to my side, eager anticipation shining in his eyes. Suriel walked back, the pair of matching fangels trailing him. No humans in the bunch but us.

  Kokabiel set the blood tap and an old gold pitcher on a small table next to Cavanaugh. "Proceed."

  Cavanaugh opened the Bible, flipping the beautifully illuminated pages like he knew what he was looking for. He stopped and read, his voice deep and powerful, resonating in the harsh room as if he were the one in charge. Neither Kokabiel or Suriel had caught on yet that to bless little old me, he ought to be facing me, not them.

  "I cast you out, unclean spirit, you and your foul companions."

  That didn't sound like a blessing.

  Kokabiel's eager grin turned worrisome, and Suriel growled deep in his throat.

  "Begone and stay far from this child of God," Cavanaugh cried, flinging the words like weapons. "In His name I command you!"

  A faint golden-green glow emanated from the robed fangels' skin. They looked at each other, worry wrinkling their perfect faces. Rude Dude grunted, but the other whimpered and backed away, arms raised.

  "In His name I cast you out, as He flung you from the Heavens," Cavanaugh sang, and even Suriel took a step back. Kokabiel's face twisted in clear pain and sparks of lightning rippled off of him, but he didn't move away. Gasping, Rude Dude and the other fangel took off.

  Cavanaugh's shirt stuck to his skin, drenched in sweat. He kept reading, kept fighting, pushing them back, but Kokabiel was too strong, and any second now he'd break whatever hold Cavanaugh had containing them and rip out his throat.

  We needed more than words. We needed holy water or garlic or--I cursed myself. Idiot. A cross was a cross and you couldn't banish evil without one. I yanked my wrists free and reached under my shirt.

  "Cavanaugh!" I shoved Dad's pendant into his hand, covering it with my own. Please work. Please, please work.

  He jumped, glancing at me, but kept reading.

  "Be gone, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit!" he shouted.

  Brilliant white light blazed from between our fingers. The darkness at the edges of the room curled away, and the room looked two-dimensional, as if everything had been painted on a white canvas.

  Suriel shrieked, one arm covering his eyes. He shrank back and disappeared. Kokabiel cried out and backed away, one hand up as if he was struggling against the wind.

  Light that bright should hurt, but I wasn't even squinting. It was warm as a bath, soothing and invigorating at the same time.

  "Begone!"

  Kokabiel broke, gasping and nearly falling. With a hateful glare, he blurred and vanished.

  I dropped my hand and the light ceased, though flickers of it still danced across the altar and pews. Cavanaugh opened his fist and gaped at the pendant. The amethyst glowed softly, growing lighter with every heartbeat. "How...?"

  I patted him on the shoulder. "You are one freaking badass cleric, that's how."

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Cavanaugh staggered and placed his other hand on the altar, steadying himself. "Will you still think I'm badass if I collapse?"

  "Absolutely. What did you do?"

  He grinned sheepishly, sweat beading at his hairline. "Exorcised our personal demons. I don't know how long it will last, though."

  "Lock the door." If I remembered the layout of this place right, the door in the back corner most likely opened into the hall right outside the lab--and across from the room Suriel tried to drain me dry in. "We can't leave until we get Anita Rosenberg and the others."

  "They're still alive?"

  "He's got them locked in his evil testing lab." I flicked a hand at the double doors. "Go!"

  He stumbled his way to the doors and pulled them shut. "There's no lock."

  Naturally, everything else he locked up tight, but this room Kokabiel left open for business. "Can we barricade them?"

  "If we can lift those." He gestured at the pews. We each grabbed an end and wrangled it against the door.

  "Put another one on top."

  "At least one."

  We dragged over a second pew, then for good measure shoved a third up against them both. It would stop a human no problem, but Kokabiel or Suriel could probably bust thro
ugh it without stopping. "Think they're weaker after the light show?"

  "No idea," he said, then gave the barricade a funny look. "Isn't this our only way out?"

  I jerked a thumb over my shoulder. "Another door in the back. I think it leads to the lab."

  "Does it have a back door?"

  I hesitated. "No."

  "I think we need a new escape plan," Cavanaugh muttered, swaying slightly.

  "I think you need to take it easy for a few minutes while I figure one out." I led him back to the altar and sat him on the steps.

  He took deep, ragged breaths, his face damp and pale. "I'll be fine. Just running on fumes."

  I wasn't so sure of that. His skin felt clammy more than sweaty. Whatever he'd done had taken a serious toll, and we'd need more of it to get out of here.

  "Well," he said with a soft laugh, "we're lucky to have survived this long, so maybe someone up there likes us."

  "Are you telling me to have a little faith?"

  "Try a lot. A lot is better."

  I'd do my best. "We need to hold this room until I get the others out."

  He spread his hands and laughed wryly. "With what?"

  "Holy ground?" I said. A longshot, but that and holy water were the only things I'd seen that kept the Pretty Boys at bay. "It's a church. Can you consecrate it?"

  "Maybe, but the normal people can still walk right in."

  "They're easier to deal with than the fangels."

  He took a deep breath and rose shakily to his feet. "Go get the others. I'll do what I can here. Just hurry. I'm running out of miracles."

  The rear doorknob turned smoothly. Sighing, I cracked the door and peeked into the hall. It wasn't the same hall I'd seen outside the lab, and another door sat at the far end, about forty feet away. That could be the right way, or it could dump me directly into a Pretty Boy rec room.

  Not like I had a lot of options.

  I ran down the hall as quietly as possible, fingers crossed that nothing interested in eating me would pop out the other side. Pausing at the door, I pressed my ear against the wood.

  Shouting. A woman's quick scream. Ivy? A heavy thud, followed by another.

  Not good. I backed away, heart pounding. Kokabiel must have had guards posted, or his minions had run for the lab as soon as Cavanaugh exorcised them. He'd probably kill Zack this time.