Edwin activated the device in his hand. The machine shot small, wooden darts at the demon who staggered backward upon impact. Once again, Edwin began chanting, working to exorcise the demon.
“You won’t escape this time, Rumpole. And now I’m twice as motivated to vanquish you,” he said, casting an anxious glance toward me.
Alodie was staring wide-eyed at the scene. But realizing this was her moment, she began to sneak toward the exit.
My gun trained on the demon, I debated what to do.
“Edwin,” I called, motioning to the escaping werewolf.
He tilted his head toward the door, indicating that it was okay for me to leave, as he crossed the room toward Phillip Phillips…or instead, what was left of Phillip Phillips. The guise of the little man was melting off the body of the demon. Edwin continued his incantation.
Yanking on the door handle, Alodie turned and raced out.
Cursing my stupid dress, I dashed after her.
Alodie raced down the narrow gallery, pausing to glance back over her shoulder at me. Seeing me hustling behind her, she picked up her step.
A fleet of guards passed us as they rushed toward the Assyrian gallery.
They were in for a terrible surprise.
Alodie slipped through the crowd in the portrait gallery and pushed open a side door. I rushed along behind her, blasting outside. The moment I did so, however, something bashed me in the head. Jarring sideways, I turned to see Alodie standing there, brandishing her parasol in front of her.
“Really, Alodie? A parasol?” I said, giving her a snide look. I didn’t want her to know it, but I was kind of impressed. That parasol had hurt.
She glared at me.
Slipping my hand into my pocket as I regained my footing, I slid on the silver knucklebuster hidden there.
Alodie swiped at me again. I ducked then turned, catching her with a jab to the stomach.
Moving back, she swung her parasol again. I grabbed it, tugged her toward me, then gave her a swift kick to the stomach.
Alodie dropped the parasol and stepped back. She glanced behind her, looking like she was about to run.
I righted myself then punched Alodie squarely in the face.
I could hear the sizzle as the silver knucklebuster connected with her skin.
She screamed and stepped back, her hand on her cheek.
“Little Red,” she hissed at me. “You’re going to pay for this—you, Lionheart, and that Agent Hunter.”
“Consorting with demons. Could you go no lower?”
“Do you think I knew he was a demon?”
“Then you’re sneaky and stupid.”
Alodie lunged at me, but I caught her with a right uppercut.
A moment later, however, I heard gunfire, and a bullet whizzed past my ear.
I turned to find two of Alodie’s bitches, both with weapons trained on me.
Alodie glared at me. “This isn’t over, Louvel,” she said with a growl, her eyes flashing red.
“You’re right. It isn’t over until you pay for what you did to Quinn.”
Her hand still pressed against her cheek, she turned and ran toward her pack.
I thought about following, shooting, or causing more mayhem, but the sky above the museum was twisting and turning black like a tornado had suddenly appeared in the middle of London. Given Alodie’s girls had their weapons on me, it was time to go.
I flung open the museum door and ran back inside.
I raced to the hall where I’d left Edwin. The guards who’d gone rushing past me were nowhere to be seen. I yanked on the handle to the gallery, but the door was firmly shut.
Inside, I heard Edwin’s voice chanting loudly in Latin. Along with that, I heard the strange hissing voice of Phillip Phillips who was trying to avoid being vanquished.
But below them both, I heard another voice. A deep female voice called out to me.
Clemeny, come. Warrior, come.
The door clicked then slowly swung open.
The first thing I saw—well, with my mooneye—was the flashing obsidian eyes of the fighting lion statue as it turned and looked down at me.
I stared at the statue, the living, breathing statue, alive only with the sight of my mooneye. The creature inclined its head toward me.
The demon howled then cursed in a language I didn’t understand. Looking away from the statue, I turned to Edwin and the beast.
A pile of flesh and clothing lay on the floor where Phillip Phillips used to be. The nearly ethereal form of the demon Rumpole stood there. He had horns, a long tail, and bright yellow eyes.
The wind blew wildly. The whole place was engulfed in a tempest.
Shouting loudly, a look of determination on his face, Edwin spoke the final word of his incantation.
Rumpole froze. Then, he exploded.
Gobs of ashy goo flung around the room splattering everything, including me. Edwin, who’d been ready for it, had turned his back. Me, on the other hand, stood there covered in a splatter of demon.
“Hell’s bells!”
“Clemeny,” Edwin called.
As I wiped the glop off my face, I heard the sound of crying and whimpering. The guards who’d rushed past me were huddled at the base of the lion of Ishtar. I looked up at the statue which seemed to tremor once more, a smile on its face, then the effigy became still.
Edwin, who was shaking some slime off his hand, crossed the room toward me. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he handed it to me.
“This isn’t your week,” he said.
“That is an understatement.”
“Alodie?”
“Outgunned. I let her go.” I looked at the body of the guard who lay dead on the floor. I shook my head. Such a senseless death. Alodie had a lot to answer for.
“I’ve been chasing Rumpole for years. He slipped me in Portugal, and I wasn’t able to track him after that. I never would have guessed Australia. What was he doing with the wolves?”
“No idea, but I don’t think Alodie knew he was a demon. Or she’s lying. Either is probable.”
“Well, looks like we both have a mess to clean up. I’ll contact the agency. You…oh, my dear,” he said then shook his head. “You are a mess, Clemeny Louvel.”
“That I am. I’ll go to Grand-mère’s.”
Edwin chuckled. “Are you sure?”
I sighed. First, bursting pipes, then an exploding fang, and now this? What was next? I was suddenly glad werewolves only quadrupled in strength and got considerably hairier when they were at full power.
Edwin grinned at me. “I’d kiss you, but, well, you know.”
I smirked. With my cleanish hand, I took his hand and give it a squeeze. “See you soon.”
Turning, I headed out of the museum, well aware of what a spectacle I was. But at least the world was down one demon. Now I needed to reduce the werewolf numbers by one.
Right after a bath.
Chapter 15: What Grand-mère Knew
Bracing myself, I knocked on Grand-mère’s door. “Grand-mère?”
“Oh, Clemeny, oranges and lemons, my Clemeny,” I heard Grand-mère call as she undid the locks. The door swung open, Grand-mère fully ready to embrace me, but then she stopped.
“What is that?” she asked.
“Who is more correct.”
Grand-mère started cursing in French then stepped back so I could enter. Still muttering, she headed to the kitchen. “Go get that dress off. I’ll bring the hot water.”
“Thank you, Grand-mère.”
“Oh, Clemeny.”
“At least it’s not blood.”
Grand-mère huffed. “As if whatever—whomever—that makes it any better. Your dress!”
“I have another one.”
“Yes, but one other. I’d swear you’re trying to ruin them on purpose. I hope, at least, that Edwin got to see you before you were covered in this mess.”
“It’s Edwin’s fault that I’m covered in this mess.”
&nb
sp; Grand-mère cursed in French once more.
I chuckled. “Remind yourself, Grand-mère, that he is Sir Edwin Hunter. And from what I’ve learned, apparently he has a nice country estate somewhere,” I said, trying to give Grand-mère something else to worry herself with besides the state of my clothing.
“What? Where? What is it called?”
“Willowbrook Park.”
“Oh, my Clemeny, that sounds very fine. Yes, that will do perfectly. Has he proposed yet?”
In my tiny room in the flat, I began pulling off my spoiled dress. God, the smell was something else. The dress would need to be burned. I laughed. “No, Grand-mère.”
“Well, you must try to hurry him along. You need to show a little more skin, my girl. Entice him. Give him some motivation.”
“Grand-mère!” I said, scandalized and amused all at once.
I glanced down at my undergarments, which could certainly use an upgrade if I was going to impress a man. But Grand-mère was wrong. I didn’t need to show off anything to win Edwin. That was why I adored him. To my great fortune, Edwin liked me the way I was.
Grand-mère entered with a basin of soapy water. She clicked her tongue disapprovingly at me. “You’re skin and bones.”
“You always say that.”
“You’ve always been skin and bones.”
“And muscle.”
Grand-mère clicked her tongue again. “If you had married Pastor Clark, you’d be plump and with child by now. Instead, God only knows what trouble you’ve gotten yourself into.”
“But then I wouldn’t have Willowbrook Park in my line of sight, would I? I saw Jessica and Quinn this morning. They are expecting a child.”
Grand-mère pulled out a stool and sat me down. At once, she began washing my hair. “I’d thought Quinn a bit beyond his years for that.”
“Is a man ever beyond his years for that?”
Grand-mère chuckled. “No. You’re right.”
I grinned. “Jessica was absolutely radiating.”
“As all women do when they are carrying the child of a man they love. You, too, will be like that one day.”
I scrunched up my brow. I had never considered myself a motherly type. And the fact that I didn’t know who I was, or where I came from, always made me feel I had no business with a child. When I’d encountered Marlowe, that strange light inside me had sparked to life and saved me from being thrown off an airship. Today, it had saved me from a demon.
“Who is your family?” Lionheart had asked me. The memory of his question bonged through my mind once again. I didn’t know. I had no idea why I was like this or what this even was.
“Grand-mère,” I began carefully. “Was there—I was just wondering—was there ever any indication of where I came from? Did anyone ever come around looking for me? Any…hint?”
My grand-mère, who was rubbing soapy water into my hair, paused.
I didn’t want to hurt her with the question. She was everything to me. But still.
“When we found you? No. Nothing. When you were a girl, though, a woman once came to the church for service. Her eyes never left you. But she left when the service ended and never spoke a word to anyone.”
I frowned. “Maybe she just liked children.”
Grand-mère was silent.
“Grand-mère?”
“She had long, black hair and a steely gaze like someone else I know. When I finished the last song for the sermon, I came downstairs to find her, but she was gone.”
“You…you never told me before.”
“What is there to tell? Maybe it was only a coincidence.”
“But it was odd enough that it got your attention.”
“Why do you ask, my girl?” Grand-mère began washing my hair once more.
“I just… Sometimes I feel like there is something different about me.”
“Of course, there is no more special girl in the world.”
“No, Grand-mère. There is just something…different. That same something different that made Eliza Greystock notice me.”
“Eliza saw you were sharp-witted, that’s all.”
I frowned. I realized then that even if Grand-mère knew precisely what I was talking about, she’d never admit it.
“I’m sorry to ask. I hope you know I would never replace you with anyone. I was just—”
“Curious. It’s only natural. Especially if you are dreaming of a family of your own. With Edwin. At Willowbrook Park. Where I will come and live with you.”
I chuckled. “Of course you will.”
Grand-mère patted my shoulder but stayed remarkably silent thereafter as she worked her rose-scented soap through my hair, washing the last of Phillip Phillips away.
“I love you, Grand-mère.”
“I love you too, my Clemeny.”
Chapter 16: Rattled
Fully scrubbed, redressed, and smelling like someone who hadn’t been covered in demon goo an hour ago, I thanked Grand-mère profusely then headed back out on the job.
It was already late afternoon, which meant the sun was going to go down soon. The situation with Alodie was beginning to get unwieldy. If I was going to try to go toe-to-toe with Alodie again, I was going to need help.
I turned and headed toward Temple Square. I was surprised when my Templar brothers, upon seeing me approach, simply opened the gate. I recognized one of the guards.
“Sir Handel,” I said, nodding to him. So close to nightfall, it didn’t escape my notice that he had a fiery red glint in his eyes.
He inclined his head to me. “Agent Louvel. Lionheart is in the chapel.”
“Thank you,” I said then entered the square, fully aware that they closed and locked the gate behind me.
The palms of my hands prickled. Was it possible Lionheart was in on all this mess? Or the Templars? Was I walking into a trap?
Shut it, Clemeny. Remember who they are.
I berated myself for my paranoia and headed toward the chapel. My hands were itching because I was walking into pack territory, no more.
As quietly as possible, I opened the door of the chapel and entered. I crossed the marble floor of the rotunda where the shrines were located. At the altar at the front of the chapel, I spotted Lionheart who was kneeling in prayer, his sword poised hilt up, taking on the shape of the cross, before him.
I paused.
He would know it was me. I didn’t have to say anything. I leaned against one of the tall columns and considered him.
It moved me that he still mourned the family lost so long ago. There was fierce love and loyalty in that. That his care extended to Bryony told me more about the quality of the man below the lupine infection. A knight. A widower. A pious man. A scholar. Pity he was a werewolf. Really, really a pity.
Lionheart whispered the final words of his prayer, ending with an amen, then rose. He made the sign of the cross, belted his sword, and turned to join me.
“There is a rumor among the packs that you have some mystical power. No one can understand how they always miss your skulking. They never hear you coming, never even sense you.”
“And what about you?”
“I knew it was you.”
“How?”
“Red roses…and gardenia,” he said with a smirk.
I rolled my eyes. “I thought being in here pained you.”
“It does. Well, out with it, Agent Louvel. I can see it on your face that something has happened.”
“Alodie. I believe she’s rallying the troops and trying to crown a new alpha.”
“Who?” Lionheart asked in a low growl.
“Cyril’s son, if my hunch is right.”
Lionheart clenched his jaw. “Cyril’s son. Is he here?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. She’s been working with an Australian merchant to bring the old pack back to London. Of course, he wasn’t really a merchant. He was a demon posing as a merchant.”
“A demon? Which one?”
“Rumpole.”
“He’s—I think I scraped the last of him off the bottom of my boot a bit back—he’s not to be worried about. Alodie was just using him, or so she thought, to get Cyril’s dogs back into the realm. I don’t think she even knew he was a demon. Actually, I’m not sure who was using whom. Either way, she has the wolves all worked up with the idea of reuniting the old pack under Cyril’s boy. She seems rather hell-bent on revenge on us both.”
Lionheart puffed air through his lips. “You were right. I should have banished her.”
“I know,” I replied with a wink.
Lionheart rolled his eyes at me then motioned to the door. Taking his lead, we headed outside. The dusk sky was fading into indigo, purple, and orange colors.
“The boy’s name is Cole. I remember the gossip when Clara left. It’s a smart move on Alodie’s part. He would be of age, and young, and strong,” Lionheart said.
“But he’s no Templar.”
“No,” Lionheart said with a soft smile, but a noise caught his attention, and he turned in the direction of one of the buildings surrounding the square. To my surprise, I saw Bryony there. Carrying a case, she walked toward us.
“Clemeny,” she called warmly, waving to me.
I raised an eyebrow at Lionheart.
“She can’t stay in the city with Alodie stirring up trouble, and she can’t stay here either. I’m sending her to the country for a time,” he explained in a low breath.
“Send someone with her.”
Lionheart nodded. “Sir Geoffrey will accompany her.”
Bryony nodded to Lionheart. “I’m ready. Sir Geoffrey is coming along now. Just one more stop then I’ll be on my way.”
“Stop?” Lionheart asked.
She nodded. “I forgot my journal at my flat.”
“Please, don’t delay.”
“Trust me. I have no wish to see those people ever again. But it is good to see you, Clemeny. Why is it that whenever danger is in abundance, you are not far behind?” she asked.
“Just luck.”
“I’d wish that luck on no one.”
I chuckled.
A burly werewolf crossed the commons toward us. “Sir,” he said, giving Lionheart a courteous bow. He eyed me over then inclined his head to me.
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