My guardians awaken shortly, brother. I cannot hide your space from their minds for so long.
Tick-tock, then. I glanced down at the crumpled form of the dead vampire. I was going to have to do something about that, and it wasn’t going to be pretty.
34
As it turned out, I could strip and joint a dead vampire in under ten minutes. With Kessiel all dry and bloodless, it wasn’t as messy as I expected, and I had a feeling I had done it before.
Probably not something to put on a resume.
With the exception of his slick leather cowboy boots, Kessiel and his blood-stained clothing fit neatly into a faded green military rucksack, which I found after rummaging around in a cabinet alongside the big metal desk. Judging from the Dr. Who and Battlestar Galactica patches sewn all over the front, it was a safe bet the pack belonged to me, so I didn’t feel guilty for repurposing it. Only the thigh bones poked conspicuously out of the top.
I left the boots in the cabinet, and hoped no one would think to investigate them too closely. Then I collected the 9mm Beretta and spent casings—at least all the ones I could find. After removing the silencer, I tucked everything into the inside pockets of my biker jacket along with two spare magazines I’d found in Kessiel’s clothes. It made the lines of the jacket hang all wrong, but between the messenger bag and the rucksack full of dead vampire, I was seriously running out of hands.
I had no idea what the museum guards were going to make of the fresh bullet holes all over my office. Then again, they were going to have to puzzle out the three bloody doves, as well. Given their unscheduled nap, courtesy of the local Rephaim, maybe they’d just sweep it all under the rug
Not likely, I mused ruefully.
Before I headed out, I asked Terael to put the sprinklers back on, and to leave them like that till one of the guards checked the office. He didn’t like the idea, but he complied, citing respect for my domain. It would make a mess in the workspace, but it would also wash away the last traces of dead vampire. I hoped.
Considering the visibility of Kessiel’s thigh bones, I didn’t want to risk running into anyone on my way out, so I slipped into the Shadowside. Stepping through to the other side of reality was still a little jarring, but it grew easier each time, and this particular crossing didn’t feel like a typical nexus of violence and death. I wanted to ask the Rephaim about that, but would have to save the questions for later—Kessiel had already cost me enough time.
I stomped purposefully through the shadowy realm on my way back to the Thinker, wondering whether it was my imagination, or if Kessiel’s bones were becoming heavier. I was tempted to examine them as the rucksack jostled uncomfortably between my shoulder and my wing, then thought better of it. Given the bizarre way things tended to look in that twilight realm, I wasn’t sure I was up for what I might find.
My mind turned to the demon jars, the Nephilim, and the various attacks on my person. The more I thought about them, the angrier I got—especially at Remy. Even if he didn’t know about the icon, he had to know that the Nephilim primus could steal memories. Saliriel I could see covering her ass by making lies of omission…
But Remy had pretended to care.
Two-faced bastard.
By the time I came within sight of the Thinker, I was so worked up that my wings were leaving blue-white trails in the Shadowside. Good thing I’d given up on subtle.
Peering through the watery veil between the two halves of reality, I could just make out the forms of Lil and Remy as they waited near the statue. They were both unmistakable, each in a distinct way. Lil had that incandescent glow about her, with all the animal faces clustering near her energy. I expected them to turn wary eyes on me, but they were all focused on the figure standing next to her.
If Remy appeared to them the same way he appeared to me, I couldn’t blame them. He looked just like Kessiel—a gleaming blood-red shadow with the intimation of wings.
Their voices carried across to the Shadowside, hollow and incomplete.
“…’s been too long… help, maybe?” That was Remiel, fussing as usual.
“…’s a big boy… care of himself…” came Lil’s phlegmatic response.
“…such… ’mpossible woman…” he huffed.
As mad as I was at Remy, I didn’t realize exactly how mad until I saw him like that. I sort of lost it.
With one swift movement, I stepped from the Shadowside, tossed both the rucksack and the messenger bag to the ground, then seized the vampire by the shoulders of his over-priced suit. I swung him around to face me.
“You smarmy, simpering sonofabitch!” I cried.
Then I smashed my fist into his face. I caught him right in the mouth, cutting my knuckles and his lip. Remiel was too shocked to do anything but stumble backward, blinking.
“Tell me you didn’t know about it,” I bellowed, grabbing him by the lapels. I threw him up against the base of the Thinker, lifting him with a strength I barely realized I possessed. “Go ahead. Lie again to my fucking face!”
As Remy worked to muster a response, Lil grabbed my elbow and tried to yank me away.
“What the hell, Zack?” she cried.
I shrugged her off, rattling him till his head knocked against the base of the heavy bronze figure. Remy struggled feebly, but he didn’t strike back—just stared with that unearthly blue gaze.
“Zaquiel!” Lil shouted, smacking my arm with the back of her hand. She didn’t hit hard enough for me to really feel it through the leather of the biker jacket, but the way she intoned my name sure got my attention.
I faltered just enough to set Remiel back down on his feet. Clenching my fists till my knuckles cracked, I seriously considered popping him again. Remy turned and spat blood onto the ground, pulling a handkerchief from his breast pocket to wipe the rest off of his face. His lip already seemed to be healing. Lucky bastard. No wonder Kessiel didn’t stay down, even with a bullet in his head. They healed almost as fast as Wolverine.
“What’s gotten into you?” Remy demanded.
“Your tribe aren’t just bloodsuckers. You fucking eat memories,” I growled accusingly. “You didn’t think that was important enough to mention?”
My brother locked eyes with me, his expression hurt in a way that had little to do with the cut on his lip.
“Zaquiel, it’s not like that,” he stammered. “I—”
“You what?” I yelled, lunging at him. “Didn’t want to disobey your hierarchy? Or maybe you didn’t want me knowing the ugly truth?”
“I… didn’t think it was relevant to your situation,” he murmured half-heartedly.
Slamming the heels of my hands against his chest, I drove him backward into the Thinker again.
“Didn’t think it was relevant?” I roared. “Who are you protecting? Saliriel? Your primus? Does it even matter, so long as I’m too ignorant to figure things out?”
“Zaquiel!” Remy pleaded.
“OK, that’s it,” Lil snapped. She reached up from behind me, looping her arms through my elbows. Pivoting sharply, she twisted my upper body one way while sweeping my long legs out from under me in the opposite direction. There was a moment where I thought I heard the purring growl of a great cat, and felt a pressure like massive paws bearing down upon my chest, but it all happened too quickly to be certain.
Then, before I could say boo about it, Lil had me pinned on my side, practically kissing the pavement.
“We are not doing this,” she said firmly, one elbow driving the side of my face against the concrete. “Not out here. Not right now. You want to scream at him, you do it in the car, where we won’t attract attention. Got it?”
“Bastard’s been lying to me this whole time,” I objected, thrashing.
“Oh, like I didn’t tell you that before you dragged him along?” she responded. “Cry me a river.”
Standing over me, a desperately pained expression on his face, Remy said, “I have not lied. I don’t know why you’re so angry at me, brother.”
/>
I was almost calming down, but that just set me off again. I struggled against her grip, spitting curses in that long-dead language I couldn’t master with conscious thought. Something way heavier than a five-foot-four redhead pressed me into the concrete. If I closed my eyes, I could see the lioness lying on me, her paw casually resting on the side of my face.
“Get a fucking grip,” Lil demanded.
“Dammit, Lil,” I objected. “Let go already.”
“If I let you up, are you going to be a good boy, and stop hitting the vampire?”
Under any other circumstances, that comment might have had me laughing, but I just couldn’t let it go. I strained against her, but she continued holding me prone as if it cost her no effort at all.
“I was attacked by one of the Nephilim,” I snarled. “That’s how I lost my memory. Your fucking primus can steal power and memories—and you didn’t think that was relevant to my situation?”
“How can it be?” he sputtered. “Our primus is on the other side of the world, Zaquiel. He’s never set foot in the United States—not even when they were colonies.”
“So he sent a decimus to do his dirty work!”
Remy crouched down so he could look at me, eye-to-eye. “Only the primus could take from you in that way,” he said with a patient, wounded sincerity, “and even he swore never to do so, as part of the Covenant of the Six. That was twenty-five hundred years ago, Zaquiel. A decimus couldn’t do that. Not to one of our own.”
“Oh, yeah?” I demanded. “What if he had the E—”
Lil slammed her hand over my mouth. I bit down on her fingers, and she ground her hips against me.
“Tease,” she purred.
Remy’s brows shot up, though it was impossible to tell if he was reacting to Lil’s salacious comment, or because he’d guessed the word she’d made me swallow.
“You can get up if you shut up,” the Lady of Beasts promised sweetly. She leaned close to my ear, so the breath of each word sent shivers down to my toes.
My head whirled with the scent of spice and vanilla and the warm pressure of her curves. I tried clinging to my anger, but the blazing fury I’d harbored for Remy was rapidly being transmuted into a different sort of heat. I knew she was using some trick on me—and boy, was it working. Before I started acting out the images of passion spilling through my head, I nodded against her hand.
“Good boy,” she cooed, peeling back her fingers, one by one.
As soon as I had breathing room, I tried to speak before she could react.
“Neferkar—”
Lil grabbed a handful of hair at the back of my head, whipped my face around at a less than comfortable angle, and devoured the rest of my statement with a kiss. My tenuous hold on rational thought fell before the silken pressure of her tongue. Twisting beneath her, I reached up to bury my hands in her hair, but she shifted to keep me pinned, scissoring her legs through my own.
Never relinquishing her grip, she broke the kiss off slowly, leaving me gulping air. Her gray eyes were fixed on mine, but all I could focus on was the little Cupid’s bow at the center of her full, red lips.
Carefully, she shaped the words, “Mum on the icon.” Then she hauled me up till I was sitting with my back against the pedestal. Too dazed to marvel at her strength, I scrubbed at my mouth while my brain stripped a few more gears. I could still feel the touch of her lips lingering against my own.
Remy just stared.
“What was that for?” I choked.
Lil gave me a look.
“But,” I sputtered, pointing to Remy. “My brother. You’re married.”
“Were married,” he corrected softly.
Lil laughed, tossing her wild locks of red. “Like that’s ever stopped any of you.”
I looked to Remy for confirmation, while I struggled to get hold of myself. My pulse throbbed everywhere Lil had touched me—and at least one place she hadn’t reached. I knew she’d whammied me, but that didn’t help to quell the very visceral reaction.
Remy found the nightscape stretching above us intensely captivating. He took a few discreet steps away, feigning disinterest in my plight. Lil took that moment to shove her smartphone at me.
“Don’t share this information,” she warned.
I was still stuck. “You kissed me. What about Lailah?”
“Some things sisters always share,” she replied with the grin of a cat picking canary feathers from its teeth. “And look, you’re not arguing anymore. So get a move on. We’re too obvious out here.”
I squinted down at the phone. She had it on its dimmest setting, and I could just make out what was on the screen. A PDF file—the missing pages of the French book. I glanced up at her as I started getting to my feet. She gave me that look again and laid a finger against her lips, urging silence, but the sight of them brought back all the sensations. It nearly put me on my knees.
“You play dirty,” I complained. I slipped the phone into my pocket while Remy still wasn’t looking.
“Dirty would have been grabbing that polearm you’re packing,” she replied sweetly.
Remiel choked and tried covering it with a cough.
“Sure. Laugh it up, fang-face,” I said. “You still have some explaining to do.”
“Not until we’re out of here,” Lil warned. She bent down and hefted the backpack full of Kessiel. She didn’t even look twice at the round knobs of the femurs sticking out of it. I grabbed the nearby messenger bag and started riffling inside for the damning photos of the demon jars.
“Car,” Lil ordered. “Now.” And she started walking.
“When she gets like this, it’s useless to argue with her,” Remy whispered.
“Not helping,” I snarled.
Remy offered me one of his very Gallic shrugs.
I chewed my cheeks, struggling to drive the smell of musk and vanilla from my head. It seemed to cling to everything.
35
I called shotgun. Unfortunately, neither of them seemed to understand what that meant. Lil froze for instant, scanning the trees for an actual shooter. The street was empty at this hour—not even a stray cat skulked among the cars parked along the curb.
“That means you get into the back seat, Remy,” I explained.
He shrugged without comment, the heels of his shoes clicking smartly on the pavement as we crossed East Boulevard. Lil thumbed her key fob and the lights on the Sebring flashed twice. Then the engine started up. Fancy. She shifted the rucksack on her shoulder, letting Remy pull ahead of her.
“Who’s the dead guy?” she asked. She kept her voice low as my sibling ducked into the car.
“Kessiel,” I replied.
“Nephilim?”
I nodded. We stopped walking about ten feet away from the convertible. Lil waited for Remy to shut the door after getting in.
“His ears are good. He can probably still hear us,” she breathed. It was so quiet, she might have been talking to herself.
“Why all cloak and dagger?”
“When you see those missing pages, you’ll understand,” she answered, “but I think you know already. It’s back in play, isn’t it?”
I started to respond, but she made a cutting motion at her neck. “Not where he might hear you. He finds out, then Sal finds out, and that would be bad for everyone. Why do you think I interrupted you back there?”
“You kissed me,” I objected.
“And?” she responded. “You didn’t like it?”
“No—I mean—that’s not the point,” I fumbled. “You did it just to shut me up.”
“Of course I did.” She laughed. “Doesn’t mean it wasn’t fun.” With a smug look, she started walking again. I tried not to stare at the way her hips swayed, the rucksack bouncing jauntily. I failed. She opened Remy’s door and shoved the over-stuffed bag of bones into his lap. She made sure she bent in my direction while she did it.
“Do something with this,” she said curtly.
He blinked, frowning at the ba
g.
“Are those human femurs?”
“Depends on what you consider human,” she replied, then she slammed the door shut on him, and got in on the driver’s side.
I stepped around and slid into the passenger seat. Lil sat behind the wheel of the car doing that maddening thing with her nails. Remy had eased the bag full of Kessiel onto the seat beside him. He didn’t look too happy about it, and I didn’t offer him a chance to ask me questions. I had other things on my mind.
Reaching into the messenger bag, I pulled out the photos and all but shoved them at him. He took them wordlessly and sat for a few minutes, slowly poring over the images.
“I’m not sure what I’m looking at,” he murmured at length.
There was a streetlamp not three car lengths away, and with his night vision, I knew he wasn’t having trouble seeing. Irritably, I twisted around to check which one he was holding.
“Those are reference photos from my office,” I explained. “They’re the demon jars the Plain Dealer was talking about.”
He frowned, delicate brows drawing together. “Yes, but this writing, Zaquiel—”
I cut him off. “What, you can’t read it?”
“I can read it without difficulty,” he retorted. “That’s the problem.”
“Then stop pretending you’re shocked by it. That’s exactly who it says it is.” “But it can’t be,” he objected.
“Why not?” I demanded.
“For the same reason that none of the Nephilim could be responsible for your amnesia, Zaquiel.”
“Enlighten me,” I shot back.
Remy made an irritated sound, twitching the photo. “Only your tribe can bind someone like this, and only the primus can bind souls as complex as ours. He can’t be in a jar himself. It’s a paradox.”
“So you’re saying no one else could learn how to do that? I’ve taught you a few things about the Shadowside. You said it yourself.”
“That’s different,” Remy objected. “What you propose is impossible—especially after the Covenant of the Six.”
Conspiracy of Angels Page 19
