by Debra Dunbar
It wasn’t that Dario needed an escort, but that there were a few quick things I wanted to say to him away from Raven. Best friends didn’t need to know every single detail of each other’s lives, especially when it concerned vampires.
I shut the door behind us and tried to be mindful of the late hour as I tip-toed down the stairs. The neighbors most likely hated me already. Dead people in my parking space. Regular demon summonings and banishings. What had amounted to a stinglike operation that wound up with seven mages doing the perp walk out of my apartment. No sense in angering them any further than they already were.
“Tomorrow night, one hour past sunset at Sesario’s,” Dario reminded me. I nodded.
“How…how is Sarge?” Part of me still didn’t want to know, but I felt I owed it to him, to our somewhat new friendship to at least check in about his status.
Dario halted halfway past the landing and faced me. “It’s none of my business, Aria. It’s not my place to stick my nose into another vampire’s love life.”
My heart sank at his words. “So you haven’t seen him around? You used to see him at Leonora’s or out with Geraldo. You haven’t seen him? Have you seen Geraldo at all?”
“Yes, I’ve seen Gerlado. No I haven’t seen Sarge. And I haven’t asked. It’s not my business.” Dario hesitated, then sighed. “If it makes you feel any better, Geraldo does not appear to be grieving.”
I did make me feel better, but it still didn’t alleviate my worry for Sarge. He was a man in love, a man addicted. He was a man marching toward his death. But I couldn’t save Sarge any more than I could save a friend who was deep into heroin.
“If you see him, or if you see Geraldo again, can you let me know? I’m not asking you to pump your vampire brother for information, just let me know.”
A look of frustration flitted across the vampire’s face, then he nodded. I continued following him to the building door, feeling the blast of humidity even in the cool night air. Dario halted so quickly that I plowed into his back, steading myself against him with one hand while holding the door with the other.
“Aria?” His voice sounded strained. “There’s a dead man in your parking space. He looks like someone reached into his chest and yanked everything out, cracking his ribcage wide open.”
No. Not after the conversation we’d had in the coffee shop. Not after he’d promised me. I peered around Dario and saw that he was right. The dead man’s ribs glistened white in the moonlight, his chest cavity hollow black.
If you couldn’t trust an angel to keep his word, who could you trust?
Chapter 29
IT WAS TREMELAY that showed up. Poor guy had just left. I doubt he’d had time to set his parking brake at the station before driving back over here.
“When do you sleep?” I asked with a sympathetic smile. I’d at least gotten my nap in this evening. I doubted the detective had even had that.
“At this rate I’ll be able to schedule some sleep next month. Right now I’m running on energy drinks and coffee.” He saluted me with a Styrofoam cup.
“Those mages still at the station?” I was hoping this death would remain hush-hush for as long as it took to rein Araziel in. The mages weren’t likely to cooperate if they thought the angel was still delivering his own sort of justice.
“Yeah.” Tremelay rubbed his face and blinked tired eyes. “They’re not being the most cooperative bunch. They’re scared. Seems there’s one particularly ruthless guy among them who they call the Stranger. Supposedly he isn’t shy about choosing those with loose lips as his victims. Or those who piss him off. Everyone is worried they’ll wind up dead if he even gets wind that they were at the station for questioning.”
I took out my little list. There were still three mages unaccounted for—four counting the Stranger. Had Gryla found time to determine his identity? Was there any way to find out who had brought in the soul trap and bargained for the death of three Haul Du mages?
Araziel had to have some way of determining which of the mages were involved. The angel might have killed those two junkies in a twisted act of pre-emptive assisted suicide, but I got the feeling he was very careful about his victims. There was a plan when it came to this angel, a method to his murders. Angels didn’t need to bother about such things as search warrants or probable cause or Miranda rights. What if I were to ask, or beg, Araziel for the location of the three remaining mages as well as the identity of the elusive Stranger? Then I could point Tremelay in the right direction to gather appropriate evidence. I glanced over at the corpse in my parking space. If things moved along at a faster pace as far as human justice went, perhaps Araziel would be willing to hold off on his killing spree.
The door of the apartment building opened and Raven walked out, casting a quick glance at the dead body. I’d called it in, then gone upstairs to let her know what had happened. Practical mage that she was, Raven had volunteered to stay and continue to clean up post-ritual while I dealt with the police.
“You’re never getting your parking space back,” she commented.
Not that it mattered. I probably would be searching for a new apartment by the end of the week anyway. “You heading home?” I asked. She nodded.
“Don’t call me before noon. Actually don’t call me before sunset. I’m going to make like a vampire and sleep the day away. When I wake up…” her eyes strayed to my waist. I touched the demon mark in reflex, wincing. For a few seconds I’d actually forgotten about Balsur. There seemed to be more urgent things to deal with than the potential loss of my soul, but at Raven’s reminder fear spiked through me. How long did I have before Balsur started putting pressure on me? What could a demon do that might drive me to the edge of desperation, to do things I never thought I would do? To barter my soul? I thought of Athena and the adopted daughter she was about to welcome home, of my father and mother, my brother and my two nephews, of Essie. I thought of Dario. And I looked up at Raven, my best friend. What would I do if their lives were in jeopardy?
This mark needed to go, and quick.
“Get some sleep. I’m going to speak with a certain angel once we’re done here. This weekend we’ll get started on my mark.”
She smiled and patted me reassuringly on the shoulder. No sooner had her car pulled away from the curb than another took its place. A tall woman with long legs climbed out of the sedan, trotting her way over toward us on sensible shoes. Janice. Tremelay was going to kill me, even though I wasn’t the one who called her.
“Crime scene, ma’am,” one of the cops told her as she waved her press credentials in his face. “Stay this side of the tape, please.”
I shot Tremelay an apologetic look and walked over to the reporter. “I don’t know how you’re going to spin this one. Telling the public an angel is killing murderers is only going to get you a psych eval.”
She grinned. “Vigilante angel. Too bad. It would make a great front page.”
I waved behind me toward the corpse. “The police are questioning some persons of interest in the ‘occult gang murders.’ Maybe you can reassure everyone that they’re making progress and that there will soon be arrests?”
She nodded, typing into her phone. “I still like the vigilante story, even if I can’t say it’s supernatural. Dead is dead, and the angel/vigilante is clearly targeting the occult gang members.”
I pointed to Janice’s phone. “Gonna make the morning paper, or are you too late for that?”
The reporter scowled. “Too late. I can get it in the online edition though.”
I was suddenly struck with an idea. I’d been wanting to keep this under wraps. To not scare off the mages being interviewed at the police station or the murderers who remained alive. Perhaps I was going about this the wrong way.
“Go ahead with the vigilante thing. Hint that the only way these occult gang members are going to stay alive is if they turn themselves in to the police and plead guilty. Maybe say that you have reason to believe the vigilante won’t stop killing unless
he’s convinced the murderers will serve time.”
Janice nodded. “Flush them out. Do you think it will work? Will they be scared enough of this angel?”
I looked over once again at the dead body. “Maybe we need a few pictures and some gory details.”
The reporter wrinkled her pointed nose. “Ugh. My editor hates dead body pics, but I’ll see what I can do. I’ve got one from last night with all the dead guys lined up in your parking space. Maybe a collage with this one and the one in the park. The public loves a good vigilante story, let’s see if I can run it.”
“Thanks.” I left Janice and the police to their work and headed back upstairs to do what I needed to do.
The unexpected appearance of a man in skinny jeans eyeing the ceramic figures on my bookshelf about gave me a heart attack. Was this how angels worked? I thought I’d need to pray, maybe get out my Bible or something.
“So I just think of you and you show up?” I asked him after giving my blood pressure a few seconds to return to normal.
“No. I figured you’d want to talk with me after seeing my gift downstairs.” The angel turned to me, a smirk on his face.
“You’re about to become a vigilante, a public hero. The threat of your very violent and life-ending sort of justice will hopefully bring all the other killers to the police station to plead guilty to murder.” I crossed my arms and lifted an eyebrow. “Per our conversation earlier, that should satisfy you. No need for ripping the souls out of any more mages, right?”
The smirk turned even more sly. I was beginning to think angels out of heaven quickly lost their gloss, because this guy’s morals didn’t seem to be on-par with mine at this time.
“See what a little justice can do? Humans don’t seem bothered by the threat of jail, but show them that dead murderer downstairs and they’ll walk a righteous path.”
“No more separating souls from bodies, right?” I repeated, wanting something to assure me Araziel was done with this “justice.”
“I will remain here until the mages all die of natural causes, just to ensure they repent and that their punishment is sufficient. If not, well I’ll need to step in once more.”
I didn’t like the idea of Araziel hanging around for another sixty years or so, but this was better than nothing. “You said you would hold off killing. What changed your mind? There’s a dead guy in my parking space and per our conversation I thought you were going to stand down and let the humans handle this.”
“I was, but he was meeting with another mage, the one with the soul trap, to discuss yet another murder ritual. Your humans are too slow. How many people must die before you manage to bring these people to justice?”
He met with the Stranger? Why, oh why, couldn’t Araziel have killed him instead? “They’ve planned another sacrifice? When? I need to let the police know.”
Araziel turned his back to me and picked up one of the figures from my bookshelf—the little resin fox. “No idea. If you kill the remaining four then there will be no need to involve the police. Everyone will be safe.”
I was getting sick of this angel and his mantra of kill-kill-kill. “Honestly I’m surprised there aren’t five dead in my parking spot.”
“I was tempted, believe me. I remembered my promise to you and decided to deliver justice to only this one, and leave the others for you to punish.”
I scrambled for a piece of paper. “You wouldn’t happen to know where I can find them, would you?”
The angel raised his eyebrows. “Am I to do all the work for you? I’ll give you another twenty-four hours, Knight. After that, I will take care of the problem.”
I nodded. “And the vampires—”
His eyes narrowed. “You are a Templar Knight, and yet you have a demon mark and you have on multiple occasions exchanged information with Satan’s servants. You keep the company of lawless mages and have filled your shelves with these.”
He waved the resin fox at me and I blinked in surprise. Did he think they were false idols? The little figurines were decorative items—or were they? Gifts from my great grandmother often carried charms and curses.
Araziel put the fox back on the bookshelf. “I fear you are walking the path to hell already.”
I thought back to the mark on my side. How far would I go to save my Pilgrims on the Path?
“Humans have free will, Araziel,” I said as deferentially as possible. “It’s not your place to judge their choices or take their lives. Immortality is sometimes the worst curse of all.”
He tilted his head as he stared at me. “But the humans these vampires kill? These creatures prey upon your brothers and sisters.”
He was right, and it did bother me. “Are they not free to make those choices, whether it be to spend a few months as a blood slave to a vampire, or to sink into the Lethe-embrace of heroin, or to end a cycle of depression through suicide?”
A faint smile flickered across the angel’s face. “I may revisit this argument with you at a later time, but for now I will leave Baltimore in your hands.”
That was a lot of pressure for one young Templar, especially one who had run away from the responsibility of her Oath. It seemed that some responsibilities could never be escaped. And I was oddly thrilled at that idea. Not a Knight, but the Templar of Baltimore. I’d be a Batman with boobs and a sword who worked with a detective, a vampire, a mage, and a reporter instead of the Commissioner. A paladin without the crazy suicidal death wish morality.
“Understood.”
Araziel set the resin fox back on the shelf and bowed deeply, giving me a military-style salute as he rose.
And then he was gone.
I had three mages and the Stranger to find. I had some reassurances with strings attached to give to Dario. And I had a demon mark to get rid of. All after I devoured a few of the cannoli in my fridge and collapsed into a sugar-fueled sleep. Hopefully things would be slow tomorrow at the coffee shop and I could squeeze in some internet research as I worked.
Chapter 30
I’D HAD THE best sleep in days, and was happily brewing up espresso at work, fueled by a breakfast of three cannoli. One more hour and I could head home to warm up leftovers and settle down to research.
Every person in the coffee shop this morning was talking about the vigilante, the “angel of justice.” I heard there were rumors of a T-shirt lauding him and how he was going to save Baltimore and rid the city of all the murderers, thugs, and dealers. Oh, and corrupt politicians. Aside from the politics, it all sounded a lot like Araziel’s party line. I doubted the citizens of Baltimore would want his type of justice or his hard, inflexible line concerning who was good and who was evil.
Although I couldn’t imagine any of the people I served caffeinated beverages to today would consider the vampires good. Was I the only one who saw a glimmer of virtue in them?
I might not be the vigilante that Baltimore wanted, but unleashing Araziel on them would be far worse. We had less than twenty-four hours before that happened. Thankfully, Tremelay said after the morning paper with its graphic pictures, the seven mages in custody had becoming amazingly cooperative. I’d left a text message for Dario, but was going to meet him at Sesarios as planned tonight. We’d need to consider our course of action on how to keep the Balaj off Araziel’s radar.
And best of all? It was Wednesday and tonight was the Anderon game at Zac’s. Tonight I’d get to pretend to be a normal human pretending to be a half-dragon warrior. I couldn’t wait.
Things were looking good, and as I glanced down to see Raven calling me, I was filled with hope that she’d found something out to help me get rid of this demon mark.
“Hey, what’s up?” I wasn’t really supposed to be taking calls at work, but given the amount of texting Anna did with her dozens of boyfriends, I figured one quick call wouldn’t get me fired.
“I think we can get the demon mark removed,” Raven announced.
Did I mention how awesome my day was? How everything was finally falling int
o place for me. Heck, I’d even had cannoli for breakfast. How more right could things be?
“I owe you big time,” I told her. “I’ve got to meet Dario an hour after sunset, and I have a game tonight with some friends. How about tomorrow? Or maybe Friday night?”
“Sure, but…” The happy joy bubbling through me froze at Raven’s nervous tone. What was wrong? “I’m not sure how easily I can get the ritual. It might be next week. Maybe more. Don’t worry, I’ll make it happen, I just might need to drop off the radar for a day or two.”
I had a bad feeling about this. Really bad. “What do you mean ‘drop off the radar’? Raven, you’ve got to be more specific than that.”
I could practically hear her squirm through the phone. Brian motioned me over to the expresso machine, plopping a cup down next to the beans with unwarranted emphasis. I glared at him, and motioned to the phone, cradling it against my ear as I read the order on the cup.
“The word is to stay out of Baltimore, mind our own business. Basically if we have a choice between flying out of BWI or Dulles, we’re advised to use Dulles.”
The loud grinding of beans drowned out the rest of Raven’s conversation.
“What?” I yelled, not caring that half the customers were watching me with interest. “Something about concave?”
“I was talking with someone who has a contact at the Conclave. Dark Iron has been accused of theft of a magical object.”
Magical object? One valuable enough to involve the Conclave? Yikes.
“Guess what he’s accused of stealing? Guess?”
“Wait. Hold on just a sec.” I finished the latte and handed it to the customer, shooting her a quick smile before turning my attention back to Raven. “What?”
“A soul trap?”
“A soul trap? You’re joking.”
I heard her grunt in confirmation. “Yeah, from a guy in Argentina three weeks ago. Dude is seriously pissed. I’m surprised he went through the Conclave and didn’t just curse Dark Iron into the ninth circle of hell. And guess who was supposed to testify against him, all hush-hush like? The three mages who were killed in Dupont Circle.”
