by Angie Fox
It shoved me down hard, knocking the breath out of me. I wheezed for a few seconds, then kicked back hard. I pushed out every bit of strength and fear and love until it began to rise up inside me. The power grew, twisting in my gut, racing out through my hands.
Yes, yes. More.
I held it, grew it until it churned molten and eager. I fed it, held it until it burned bright and strong. It wanted out. It wanted to be heard. But I held it back just a little bit more. Teased it. Sharpened it.
"You want out?" I hollered. My fists punched against the stone. My legs pounded. "You want this?"
Yes! It screamed. It begged.
"Ha!" I let it loose. It flowed from me in a single hot burst.
Then I saw light. I saw fire and white-hot liquid energy. It was beautiful. It surrounded me, seized me with purity and strength. Goodness.
The tomb rumbled all around me. Ha!
I shoved harder, drunk on my own power.
A fissure opened up in the rock above my head. Cripes! I pulled back, toned it down. Too late. The power had been trapped in the stone. Crack. My feet dropped into empty space as—holy hell—the entire bottom of the casket crumbled and dropped away.
Oh, no, no, no.
I couldn't break this thing. I needed to blend, to learn.
Desperately, I tried to reclaim my energy, to suck it back in, to do something. But I had no idea how.
I'd never even considered holding back before.
The fissure above my head deepened, spread down the side of the casket. I pressed against it, as if that would meld the pieces together again. I couldn't even feel the power of the tomb anymore. I only felt the overpowering thrum of my own energy.
It rumbled. A large crack split the heavy rock above my head. I rolled sideways, curled into a ball to protect my skull as chunks of gravel-sized rock rained down on my hips and side. The casket groaned and lurched as the entire front wall fell off.
Rock shards dug into my hip and arm as the bottom crumbled under me.
Cool air turned my sweat-sheened skin ice cold. I choked on the dust. Pieces the size of gravel pelted my head and hair.
Mimi screamed. Horror flooded her voice. "What did you do?"
"Nothing," I hollered, trying to get a grip, to hold back my powers that fought to flow freely. I pressed my fingers against the rock-strewn bottom of the coffin. A crack splintered it. I couldn't let her see my complete and utter lack of control. I had to figure this out.
"You broke the Tomb of Kebechet!" Mimi said, her shrill tone piercing my ears. "How did you do that?"
"I barely touched it," I said, shifting to ease out the front. My knee accidentally hit the back or maybe I breathed wrong because that part crashed over, with all the subtlety of a sonic boom, taking one of the purple curtains with it.
"Damn it!" I rolled all the way out. My legs were shaky. I had dirt in my mouth.
Mimi let out a strangled squeak. "Pastor!" she hollered. "Help! Someone get Pastor Xavier!"
Dimitri wrapped an arm around me. "Can you stand?" he asked, bracing me against his side. "Because we may need to make a run for it."
Tears flooded my vision. My hands were shaking something horrible. I felt drained. Tired. I didn't know how fast I could move. "We may need to hit them with a spell."
Dimitri groaned. "So you're saying we're fucked."
Footsteps pounded down the aisle. "In here!" Mimi yelled.
"Stay back!" A man wearing blue suit pants ripped the curtain back.
Dimitri cursed.
I knew it was bad. But when I looked up and saw the pastor, it got even worse.
There, wearing a blue suit with a conservative red tie, stood the man I thought I'd never see again. The man who'd walked out of my life. The one I swore I'd never chase down.
"Dad?"
Chapter Ten
He'd let his inky black hair grow, making his sharp features even more pronounced. He stood about six feet tall, although he didn't come close to Dimitri. It troubled me to note that since I'd seen him last, Dad had lost even more weight off his lanky frame.
Hands still shaking, I gave a pathetic wave. "Hey," I said.
Because that's what you say when your estranged father walks in on you destroying a demonic tomb.
Hellfire. I couldn't believe he was in charge of this place.
My throat was parched. My knees wobbled. I never expected to see him again. He was a fallen angel. A real one. He'd abandoned me long before I was born and I'd never even seen him until a year ago when he'd searched me out and asked me to save his eternal soul.
I'd risked everything for him. I'd saved him, given him a new start at life. He'd paid me back by walking out on me. He'd said he wasn't interested in being a dad. He wasn't the type, whatever that meant. I sighed. At least he'd been honest with me, even if it had hurt like hell.
Now he stood here, mouth open, eyes wide. At least I'd caught the king of bullshit off guard.
He stared at me like he'd never seen me before.
Clearing my throat, I glanced back at the pile of rubble. "Sorry about that."
I was. Now we'd never know what the demon was doing with it. Unless I could get it out of my dad.
Dad didn't say anything, which was a first. Instead, he approached me slowly, picking his way through the rubble.
"Huh," Frieda said.
Great. Even the biker witch didn't know what to say.
Dad folded me in an awkward hug. I swore I could feel the bones of his back through the fine wool of his jacket. He pulled away first, studying me as if I were a new kind of bug in his garden. "I never expected to see you here."
That made two of us.
Dimitri stood stiff-shouldered, wary. Dad pretended not to notice. "And you," Dad said, with the casual air he'd made into an art form, "I remember you."
A muscle in my husband's jaw twitched. "You should. I helped save you from demon possession." He seemed to grow taller, infusing the room with his presence as he spoke. "I killed the banshees that hunted you. I fought the Earl of Hell for you."
Dad adjusted his tie. He pasted on a smile, teeth clenched. "Not in front of the help."
We were gathering a crowd of startled churchgoers.
Dimitri didn't care. His voice took on an even harder edge. "I was there for your daughter after you abandoned her."
The stab of truth made me wince. I'd been a fool.
Dad grew twitchy, as if he wasn't quite sure how to react. He cleared his throat and turned to his minions instead. "The man is right about one thing," he said, with the wave of a hand at Dimitri. "This is my prodigal daughter." He said it without affection or joy. "The rest is an inside joke. And a very bad one at that." He shot me an aw-shucks grin, as if he actually cared. "My little pumpkin's glad to see me, isn't she?"
He'd never called me a pumpkin in his life.
Mimi fretted with her dress, her hair. She had the nerves of a hummingbird as she moved to stand behind my father. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea you even had a daughter."
Exactly.
I wanted to tell Dad in no uncertain terms that I wasn't overly thrilled to see him, but screw that. I wasn't a sullen child. Any kind of games I played only gave him power.
He'd made his choice. He didn't want me in his life. As awkward as this was right now, I was here on business. I'd figure out a way to make this work.
"Honey bun?" Dad prodded.
Sweet Jesus. He actually wanted an answer.
I didn't get it. Was it all about image with him?
Painfully enough, I had no clue. I didn't know enough about my father. And I refused to look at Dimitri.
If you're going through hell, keep on going.
I wiped some of the grave dust from my arms. "Sure, Dad. It's nice to see you." Even if you'd never choose to see me.
"Now what are you doing here?" Dimitri finished the thought.
My dad's slick smile was back. "I discovered a powerful relic, a direct line to God," he added in a hushed to
ne, for the benefit of his followers. "I had no choice but to spread the word and found my own religion."
"Naturally," I said. It happened all the time.
Behind him, Mimi had tears in her eyes. "She broke the Tomb of Kebechet."
"Yes," Dad said, with the sobriety of a true politician, "that's unfortunate." He directed a tepid smile at his followers. "We must all pray on it. This is a test, you know."
Absolutely not. He had something up his sleeve. I'd bet anything.
Mimi shook her head, wiped her nose on her dress. "That rock is ten times denser than quartzite. It was forged in the fires of Mount Thinis. It rested for three millennia in a dimension beyond our dimension," she said, as if reciting holy text. "It is infused with powers we can't possibly understand." The membership chair pointed at me. "She. Broke. It."
I stiffened. I knew where this was headed.
We didn't need anyone questioning my humanity.
"It was old," Frieda said, in my defense.
Dad looked a little pale. He hadn't expected that. Yes, he controlled his congregation, but I wondered how much of that had come from his great and magical tomb.
"If it's any consolation," I said to him—and to the rest, "it was a total accident." It's not like I did it to be a jerk. I didn't even know how I managed to split a stone in the first place.
Dad blinked, trying to get a handle on himself. "It's done, though, isn't it?" He tried to shake it off. "Things happen." He ran an unsteady hand through his hair. "Trust in me and in this church," he said to his congregation. Then, turning back to me, "I suppose this is what it's like to be a parent."
Right.
"Come along," he said to me.
I cringed at the thought.
Still, Dad may be a jerk, but he was a first-class bullshitter. And if he was in charge of this place, that in itself was valuable. If I could stand being in the same room with him.
I glanced to Dimitri. "I'll be fine." We needed to know Dad's angle, and he'd be more likely to talk to me without Dimitri there, pushing his buttons.
He gave a short nod. "Frieda and I will wait."
Which was shorthand for investigate and get into trouble, probably steal a few pieces of the broken relic.
Dad had no idea whom he was dealing with.
I leaned closer to my husband. "Whatever you do, find out what's down in that basement."
"Gladly," he said, already plotting. I had no idea how he was going to do it, but he'd figure out a way. It was one of the things I loved about him.
Meanwhile, Dad had focused on Mimi. "Pick two helpers," he told her. "Wrap the remains of our artifact in the velvet cloth. Please. Capture every last fragment." He fiddled with his lip as his gaze traveled over the ruined Tomb of Kebechet. "I may know someone who can fix it."
My husband leveled a glare at him. "I shudder to think."
Dad's eyes flicked up. "Watch it, young man. You're addressing your father-in-law."
Dimitri let out a snort.
I was more shocked than anything. "How did you know?" The last time I'd seen Dad, Dimitri and I weren't even engaged. He'd left and hadn't wanted anything to do with me or anyone in my rather small social circle.
Dad squared his shoulders as we headed out to the hallway "You're both wearing rings," he said, as if it were obvious we must be married to each other. "Plus"—he tilted his head—"your adoptive mother stopped by to see me."
"Hillary?" I said, dumbly. Of course. There was only one, thank goodness. My adoptive mom may be a size-four socialite, but she was a bulldog when it came to standing up for the people she loved. I hadn't shared the gory details of my dad's rejection. And of course she would assume my bio dad would make me happy. Ha.
He walked me out toward the lobby. "Now that is a fine-looking woman. She even took me out to lunch at the Ivy. I'm surprised she didn't mention it. She was quite taken with me."
In his dreams. The dull realization settled over me. "She tried to fix this."
I was going to kill her. She never could leave things alone. And now, it seems she'd hunted down my biological father the same as she'd snared a set of live pink doves for the wedding toast.
My dad hit me with a megawatt smile. "I told her I wasn't up to being a dad, not even for the free booze." His face fell when I didn't share in the joke. "Lighten up. I was teasing."
About my life and my wedding. This was one battle I was glad Hillary had lost.
As we made it out into the lobby, Dad continued, as if we were discussing the weather. "You didn't want me to show up. It would have been awkward as hell to walk you down the aisle."
"My other dad did that," I told him. Cliff wasn't exactly the warm and fuzzy type, but at least he cared.
"Exactly." He stopped in front of a small elevator with gold doors. "Much better all around." He spared me a glance. "It is good to see you."
"For real?" I didn't get why he was acting so friendly.
The elevator doors dinged open. "Sure." He ushered me inside.
It was an antique model, with wood paneling and a metal cage that closed in front of the more modern doors.
Dad glanced down at me. "We could use you around here."
The lights above us flickered as the carriage lurched up. Ah, so that's why he'd been so chatty. He needed something.
The small carriage shook and I felt the low crackling of a portal.
It was on this floor.
Of course it was. My dad was behind this entire thing. I could feel it stronger as we drew closer and closer. The vibrations reached out to me, settled low in my stomach. I winced as it gave a hard pop.
Dad leaned closer. "You okay?"
"Never been better," I muttered.
We exited into a small hallway with antique wood-paneled walls. Two doors stood directly opposite each other. Red vapor trickled from the one on the right, spilling out over the white marble floor.
I stopped, bracing myself as the cold trickle of evil caressed one of my ankles. "You want to tell me what that is?"
"Have a little patience," he said, as if he were the put-upon one in this relationship. Dad inserted a key into the door on the left. "I'm not your enemy, Lizzie."
That remained to be seen.
His office was in the old projection room, with a bank of glass at the back, overlooking his church. Talk about being the king of the castle.
The glass had been tinted, treated no doubt so that Dad could see out, but no one else could see in. I looked down at Mimi and two of her helpers, scurrying to make some sense out of the mess we'd left behind.
Dimitri and Frieda were nowhere to be seen.
Built-in bookshelves lined the right wall of Dad's office. They were curiously free of books. Instead, stone statues and bits of rock crowded the shelves.
A carved wood desk stood at the center.
The skin on the back of my neck prickled. "What is this place, Dad?
He tossed his keys on the desk. "It's the latest in joint ventures—a whole new way for people like you and me to help others."
I shoved off the wall. "You've made it clear there is no 'you and me.'" The last time I'd seen him, he'd been extremely matter-of-fact about ending things between us.
Before that, we had no relationship at all. He didn't even come to see me after I was born.
"I admit I'm not the father type," he said, moving behind his desk. He motioned for me to take one of the matching red leather seats across from him. "I'm not going to lie to you about that. But there's no reason we can't be friendly when we run into each other." He tugged his pants legs and sat. "In fact, I think I may be in possession of contacts that could help you."
True. Dad was a fallen angel. I doubted we ran in the same circles.
I took my time making my way over to him, arms crossed over my chest. "The last time you offered your help, you ran and hid while we battled."
The biker witches had told me all about it afterward. I'd been so busy fighting, I hadn't stopped to consider what my dad
was doing.
He didn't even have the decency to look ashamed. He clasped his hands on the desk in front of him. "You can't blame me for that. I was fighting my own darkness at the time. But now, I'm clean." He leaned back in his chair. "I'm happy. And it's because of this place: the Salvation of the Hills."
He sounded like an infomercial.
I took a seat across from him. "There's a dark portal in your church, Dad. Some freak used it to drop a fenris on my beach."
"No, no." He rapped on the mahogany. "That was me."
"What?"
Dad stood. I followed.
"I have a portal." He moved around his desk to an open area next to a shelf lined with canopic jars. "See?" He raised his hands and a crash of electricity erupted into the space.
It was ten times worse than before. It pounded against me, sizzled over my skin. It felt like we were right in the room with it.
Dad merely grinned as a churning red portal opened up in front of him. It swirled with power, radiated with dark energy.
I realized with a jolt that I hadn't sensed it since he'd come into the room with the rock. Was he intentionally blocking me? Or was it an accident? There was no way I'd ask. I didn't trust Dad.
"This one's all mine," Dad said, as if he was showing off a new car. "I set it to go anywhere I need."
"Like our beach." It made sense, even if it was the last thing I wanted to hear. "Don't tell me that was you personally that I saw early this morning." The man had been shrouded in a cape, but he'd been tall, lanky.
Cripes.
Dad clapped once and the portal disappeared. "I can explain."
"No, you can't." Nothing he said could be good.
Dad paused, as if trying to figure out a way to say it. "I made a deal with the Earl of Hell," he admitted.
"Jesus Christ on a cracker."
Dad held up his hands. "No. Listen. This time, it works. The Earl is okay now. He knows he can't come up and walk the Earth."
This was insane. "He tried to kill me at my wedding!"
"And that was a mistake," Dad said, talking over me.
Ya think? "Listen to yourself!"
But he was too busy talking. "The Earl needs power, right? And, yes, he wanted yours. But it's good that he didn't get it because now we're working a new angle. It's all good now."
