I give him a nod as I grab Genevieve’s hand and then take hold of his. I hear her give a little gasp as the translocation spell washes over us.
The ride is actually pretty smooth this time, I am only a little nauseous as we appear in front of a derelict looking building a few blocks off of the south end of the strip.
My lady love however is busy losing her lunch behind a dumpster she has lurched behind, she to my knowledge has never traveled like this before.
“I will walk back home, thank you very much.” She says shakily as she staggers over and leans against me.
To my credit I manage not to laugh.
Not that any of this is funny really, we have all lived in a little bubble of peace for the past few months and now that bubble has popped.
Marcus stands next to me seething with magic and trying like always to look everywhere at once. He gives my love a concerned glance that I appreciate more than I could ever tell him, the three of us form up and walk across the street to the dumpy looking used book store that is a Sub Rosa front. Most humans would walk right by the place without sparing it so much as a glance. There is actually a ward to prevent curious humans who might actually see it from coming into the place. Anyone who might try to wander in will be beset by, what we shall call it, an emergency of the bathroom nature.
Here we will find the Librarian.
He will be here because he never leaves the store. Why? Well, because he can’t, awhile back the poor guy had the misfortune to attract the romantic attention of a Necromancer, who did not take at all kindly to being rejected by him. She turned him into a shambling undead zombie, with an unhealthy appetite for human flesh. His mentor, the owner of the bookstore, being a powerful Wizard himself, did his best to undo the spell, but in the end that only meant that Chris got to be alive and human on the premises of the store. Two steps out the door and he was a rotting corpse, mumbling the word brains a lot.
His mentor has pretty much handed over the running of the store to him and it serves its purpose as a clearinghouse of information for our community. Chris can research and find answers for almost any paranormal question brought to him, this has earned him the nickname of, the Librarian.
A small bell above the door chimes as we open the door and step into the store, which once we are all inside is at least three times as big as is possible from the size of the building it is in.
You Doctor Who fans know what I am talking about.
“Figured I would be seeing you sooner or later.” Chris tells me as we walk up, he is on the phone and holds up a finger asking for a moment to finish the call.
He is good looking guy, in a balding nerdy book wormy sort of way I suppose. Handsome enough at least to attract the attention of the love crazed Necromancer anyway. Right now his face is showing his exasperation with whoever is on the other end of the phone line.
“For the last time lady, there is no such thing as the unauthorized biography of Dark Molly! Why? Well, I suppose because the crazy bitch would gut anyone stupid enough to try writing one, that’s why!” He hangs up the old fashion clunky black desk phone, shaking his head ruefully.
“I know what happened, I have no explanation for it at all. I have clerks combing the records in back, but I doubt that they will find mention of anything like what happened tonight.” He tells us tersely.
“Librarian, I know you don’t have answers for us, but any theories? Any thoughts at all on what could be going on here?” Marcus asks him in a formal tone, throwing the weight of his House behind the question.
Chris sits down in the overstuffed leather chair behind his desk, sighing heavily. He sketches a privacy charm in the air in front of him and the rest of store that had been, moments before, bustling with patrons and clerks, falls silent as a bubble of magic separates us from them.
“Random ideas? Lucifer is in town, which always tosses a damn wild card into the mix of things. Your lady’s stunt with the fountains, threw a monkey wrench into the balance of magics around here and that balance is still struggling to restore itself. Rumors are circulating that the Goblins are close to perfecting whatever they have been building since just about the end of time and they have become more secretive than ever. Not to mention the ritual that almost happened out in the desert a few months ago.”
Marcus gives him a hard stare.
Chris gives him a smartass smirk.
“Yeah, I know, it never officially happened and you have no idea what I am talking about. You should know by now that I hear everything eventually oh impressive head of major House, secret or not. I have a lot of time on my hands. You might have heard , I don’t get out much.” Chris tells him with a shrug and a note of bitterness in his voice.
“Of course, Librarian. Please continue.” Marcus tells him with an apologetic smile and a slight bow.
“As I was saying, magically things have been unsettled lately, but none of that explains what happened with the angel tonight. I haven’t the beginnings of a clue as to what to tell you past that.” He says with a another shrug.
A thought occurs to me that probably should have before, in my own defense, I have been a little preoccupied trying to stay alive and not getting kidnapped by the Fey tonight.
“How did you know I was in danger?” I ask Genevieve.
She holds out a hand to me and says something lilting under her breath and a glowing red line slowly arches from her chest to mine. It is beautiful, pulsing in time to our heartbeats.
“Because our hearts are connected Robert Jones.” She says simply.
“Oh for crap sakes guys, get a freaking room.” Chris groans as he waves the privacy charm away.
Chapter Four
A slender attractive witch with closely cropped dark hair, wearing a thread worn rolling stones t shirt and a silver ring in her nose, comes up and whispers something into Chris’s ear, while handing him a small scroll. A look of surprise flashes across his face so fast, that I am not even sure I saw it in the first place. He excuses himself and goes with her towards the back of the store leaving us standing there.
Before we have a chance to even ask each other what the hell that was all about, the bell above the door chimes. A tall, pale, cadaverous looking figure in an immaculate chauffeur’s uniform steps into the store and looks around. A ghastly smile stretches across his angular face as he sees us.
“Greetings, kind folk. I come bearing a message from my Master.” He tells us with a low stiff bow.
Beside me Genevieve gasps and grabs my hand and squeezes it so tightly, that if I wasn’t so damn manly it might even hurt. I glance over at her and see that she has gone pale and her face looks stricken.
I put myself between my love and the damn ghoul that just walked in and in the words of a good Vampire friend of mine, I put on my best bitch face.
“Not another step closer Chumley.” I tell him quietly, but with all the edge I can manage.
Grinning he takes, another small step.
Marcus smoothly moves to stand next to me and I can feel him gathering in his considerable power, I do the same, with what I have to work with.
Chumley just stands there looking at us for a long moment, he is the servant of the being known as Lucifer and is temporarily on this plane of reality while the spark of his master inhabits the host he is using this visit.
“No need for alarm, good folk. I am merely here to hand deliver a message from those my Master used to stand with. He is doing them the courtesy of having it delivered, for what we might as well call, old times sake.” His voice, as always, leaves me feeling stained for hearing it. He snaps his fingers and a folded piece of paper floats from him to hover just in front of Marcus.
He snatches it out of the air and without glancing at it, stuffs it into the pocket of his suit coat.
“Message delivered. Now, be gone.” Marcus tells him in a bored tone as he jabs a finger at the door.
“I am not sure that I appreciate your tone, good sir.” Chumley tells him after staring a
t us for a long moment. His head is slightly tilted and a slow build up of energy seems to be swirling around him. As it slowly builds, a mocking smile creeps onto his pallid face.
He licks his thin lips with an obscenely long black tongue.
For the record, yeah the damn slimy thing is forked.
Chris comes walking up, looking pissed off and as he comes he is chanting in a language that nobody has offered to teach my Dabbler ass yet. The Witch he left with, walks a couple of steps behind him, her hands busily sketching runes into the air as they come.
“Read the sign asshole, management reserves the right to refuse service to anyone. Consider yourself refused.” He says as he claps both hands together releasing a wave of magic.
The front door opens itself wide and our ghoulish pal Chumley is flung backwards through it.
Jerk has the nerve to wave at us as he goes.
The door then slams itself shut.
“You three may leave by the service entrance in the back, simply state your destination and step through it. If I find anything out, I will be in touch through the usual channels.” He tells us firmly while he stares at the closed door with a grim expression on his face.
I give him a nod as we walk by, as a way of apologizing for the trouble that we brought to his doorstep. He smiles back and gives me a thumbs up, then goes back to staring at the door, like he expects bad news to come through it.
In our world, opportunity may knock, but trouble just kicks the damn door in.
Marcus and I hustle Genevieve to the back of the store and find the service entrance.
“Home!” I shout as I give the crashbar on the door a swift kick and there is a soul numbing moment of absolute cold and darkness as we cross the threshold.
And then the three of us are standing in our postage stamp sized living room. Shakily Genevieve lowers herself into a chair and I can tell that she is fighting tears.
Marcus has been my friend for a very long time, no matter what factors may strain that friendship, now I know that he is still my friend by the simple kindness he shows my love.
He kneels beside her and takes her small hands in his and kisses them lightly, before touching her briefly on her shoulder.
“No need for fear, you are being protected by the Abbott and Costello of the magical world.” He tells her with his patented roguish grin.
Her laughter relieves the tension in the room, like the safety valve on a overheated steam engine.
I am not laughing because of the worried look he gives me over her shoulder.
She wipes her eyes and tells us that she is going to go take a shower.
It has to be her fourth one of the day.
We sit quietly at my battered table until we hear the water running and her humming some pop song off key and loudly.
And then he takes the message out of his pocket.
He reads it with an intent look on his male model face and then sighs heavily before handing it to me.
I don’t have warm fuzzy feelings that it is going to be good news.
Yeah, it isn’t good news.
Chapter Five
The message on the card is simple, basically the pleasure of your company is requested to discuss mutually important matters tomorrow at breakfast. It mentions both myself and Marcus by name and provides a time and a place for the meeting.
What isn’t simple about it, is the way the note is signed.
A golden rune is seared into the heavy cardstock, a human looking at would see a fancy design, but to us the mark seethes with a fraction of the power of those who placed it there.
It is the symbol of the Seraphim.
“Well, I hope they have decent waffles.” I tell Marcus as I hand the card back to him.
For the record, he doesn’t laugh.
“This has to be about what happened with the Angel in the bar, you were a witness, so I suppose it makes sense that they would want to talk to you.” Marcus says slowly, I can almost see the wheels spinning in his head as he works things out in that big brain of his.
“Hopefully they aren’t pissed that I pretty much dropped a ton of rubble on their boy, probably even dented his halo a bit.” I tell him as I snag another beer from the fridge.
He waves the idea away.
“Nothing you, or myself for that matter, did, could actually do one of their kind any real harm. If they were angry they could just will you out of existence, no offense, but it is weird that they would pay a lowly creature such as yourself any notice.”
Yeah, Angels are the all time gold medal rock star level winners at the whole being a snob bit. Their disdain for their bosses favorite creation, hasn’t faded over the centuries, since their big guy went out for a pack of cigarettes or something and failed to come back. Humans are basically just hairless talking monkeys to them and they don’t hold us Sub Rosa types, in much higher regard.
“They must want something from us, it is the only answer that makes any sense, but what could they possibly want?” Marcus asks the question out loud, but I am pretty sure that he isn’t expecting an answer from me.
“So we talk to them and find out what it is.” I tell him as I hand him a bottle of beer.
“Actually, they won’t be talking to us. Normal human’s heads would pretty much explode at the sound of an Angels voice, us, well we would fall to the floor writhing in agony for a little while and then our heads would explode. They will speak to us through puppets.” He tells me absently, his voice taking on a vaguely lecturing tone.
I stifle an inappropriate laugh, can’t help it, the idea of Angels sitting across from me with ventriloquists dummies on their laps, is just too weird not to laugh at, but Marcus will get all pissy if I don’t go through the motions of serious listening.
“Hey pal, lets play a game. Lets pretend that I don’t know a single damn thing about Angels and what this meeting is going to be like.” I tell him, I am still listening to the sound of the shower running in the bathroom. Lucky for us, she takes ridiculously long showers.
He sighs heavily and then nods. Getting up he begins to pace our tiny apartment as he gathers his thoughts. I know from experience that when he speaks his voice will be in lecture mode, which I hate, but I need to be brought the hell up to speed.
“Puppets, the Angels have always used them on the rare occasions that they have to meet with Subrosas like us. They are the souls of humans, who are close to dying of some terminal illness. They will appear to us as what they looked like when they were young and healthy. The Angels will be touching one of their hands and will speak through them. Every word that they speak for the Angels costs them a few moments of life.” Surprisingly his voice isn’t clinical like he is giving a lecture, there are notes of sadness and other things that I can’t quite define coloring it instead.
Well, that’s a buzzkill.
“Are they forced to serve the Angels like this.” I ask him quietly, trying to wrap my head around what I am being told.
“No, it is entirely voluntary. They generally use humans who are very religious and by all reports serving in this way replaces any pain their bodies are feeling, with an ecstasy of sorts. Don’t look at them during the meeting, it is a breach of protocol. Look at the Angels and if needed, direct your responses to them as well.”
It goes without saying that we will be at the appointed place at the appointed time. Even my Dabbler ass knows better than to deliberately offend beings as powerful as the Seraphim. So, we go and see what they want with the likes of us and hopefully we survive the experience. There are no weapons we can bring with us, no spells that can really protect us and we have no bargaining chips in whatever game is being played.
The shower turns off in the bathroom, Marcus folds the paper back up and puts it in his pocket.
“I will pick you up in the morning.” He tells me simply, giving my shoulder a squeeze as he walks past me and out the door.
I send a trickle of magic out to make sure that all of my wards are in place,
they are as strong as I can make them. At the very least they should warn me of any danger that tries to cross them.
Of course, there are some dangers that are right here with me.
She comes out wrapped in one of my old faded, ratty bath towels and on her, it is more stunning than anything any runaway model has ever strutted down the fashion runway in.
“You thought Chumley was there to collect whatever it is that you owe his Master.” I tell her quietly.
“Yes.” She answers me in a small subdued voice and she is staring at the floor instead of meeting my eyes.
“Tell me what it is.” I demand, trying hard not to let the anger I am feeling color my voice.
She shakes her head softly and moves away from me and into our small bedroom. I know better than to push, every time that I do she just shuts down and then we sit in awkward strained silence as we try to think of a way to find our way back to each other. Which we do by choosing to pretend that this debt isn’t really hanging over us, which is getting harder to do all the time now.
“Marcus and I have a meeting in the morning. I am not sure what will happen at it, but no matter what you have to stand here inside of the wards ok?” I tell her firmly.
“With Lucifer?” She whispers, her eyes going huge and her lower lip starting to tremble.
“No, with some of his old buddies. We have been summoned to meet with some Angels. Absolutely no idea why, but they asked for the both of us by name.” I keep my voice empty and casual.
I don’t see her move, she does that sometimes, I am reminded that as normal as she appears, well, she isn’t normal. That being said, one moment she is standing across the room from me and the next she is standing so close to me that I can feel the damp heat radiating from her skin.
Sin City Angels Page 2
