by Misty Evans
Hanging onto me, she took my bag from Salmad and tugged me toward an enormous set of stairs. “Can I get your autograph? My sister will scream with jealousy when I tell her I got to bunk with you!”
I cast a save me glance at Damon and Cole and found them both snickering as Isi marched me away. Behind Damon, Valentina shot me a cold, hard look.
The castle sprawled in all four directions. Moisture dampened the stone walls and the place had the distinct smell of an institution. The room Isi took me to, however, was cozy and had a small fire burning in the stone fireplace. There were two beds, a sitting area near the fireplace, and an attached bathroom. I had no intention of staying longer than necessary, but my new roommate seemed to think I was moving in. Curious, I let her assume what she wanted and encouraged her to talk. The more she said, the more I worried. Damon’s plan was becoming clearer.
Demons come from the earth and so does our magic. As she chatted, I laid my hand on the stones of the room and let my demon get a read on the place. I expected strong vibrations from the stone, but the intensity of the magic surprised me. The stone acted like a magical light socket of energies and very dark, very strong magic lived inside these walls. High levels of all the deadly sins and their offspring. For a group of Bridge employees, that struck me as odd. Where was the benevolent energy? The desire to help rather than hurt?
Ignoring the burning sensations in my hand, I probed deeper. What I found were magics of young vampires, recently changed, and upper level demons, like Valentina, who were older than the rocks used to create the castle. There was a concentration of mischief and friendship on the west side of the castle, but beyond that, nothing but evil.
My demon did a little dance. This was her kind of place.
So many different types of magic in one location created a great deal of tension in the land, air and water. Every natural element in the area was overloaded, and the magic pulsing into my hand and up my arm radiated all the way to my head.
Instant migraine as my virtue fought back.
What was going on here?
Breaking the link, I shook my hand, then rubbed it, trying to get rid of the lingering maleficence. I also rubbed my forehead to ease the sudden pain there.
“Would you like a tour of the place?” Isi asked, jumping up from her Barbie-pink bed. She had no accent and could have been from America from the sounds of it. “Damon will be tied up with Marco and Valentina for a while and dinner isn’t until seven. This place is awesome! You’ll love the training center and weapons room. I know you will!”
“Great,” I said, motioning for her to lead the way. Sitting in the room wasn’t going to help me figure out what was going on here and what Damon was doing about it. He had to have caught on that the European Bridge Council had something up its sleeve and I would bet money that’s what this trip was really about. “Can we pick up Cole along the way? Those War demons, you know. Nothing they love better than a fully stocked weapons room.”
Isi nodded her head and giggled again. “So you date Radison Beaumont, right? My sister and I have all his trading cards and we know all his songs by heart. We’re, like, obsessed with him!”
Uh-huh. “That’s nice.”
Lame, I know, but what was I supposed to say? He rocks in bed as well as out?
She grabbed my hand again like we were best friends. “So tell me…” Giggle. “What’s he really like?”
Mamma mia. Kill me now.
Chapter Eighteen
Dinner provided my first glimpse of Marco. The archdemon was dark-skinned with a wide, relaxed smile that belied his aura’s convoluted structure. No one in this castle—with the exception of Isi—was an easy read. Deception, duplicity and machination seemed to be the hidden agendas of the day.
Of course, Marco was a demon. One of the top dogs in demon-land, too, right up there with Damon.
But as I watched him and Damon talk and laugh at the head of the long, rectangular dinner table in the dining hall, I couldn’t help but compare the two males. They may have both been archdemons working for the Bridge Institute, but they couldn’t be more opposite each other in personality.
The dining hall was Hogwarts-like with the castle’s occupants sitting on benches around three enormous wooden tables. The energy in the air was suffocating, the smells of the food and all the different magics overpowering. My eyes watered, my nose ran, my ears rang. My demon scratched and clawed at her prison, desperate to come out and play.
Thanks to all the magic, my head continued to pound. Even if the guests in the hall hadn’t been magical, it would’ve been too much for me. Large groups of living beings—human or otherwise—are irresistible to my demon. A living smorgasbord she can’t resist. She was desperate to tempt, torture and kill everyone in sight.
Security barriers were thick, constantly shifting and held poisons and spells all designed to keep us in as well as the big bad out.
All the while Isi had been showing me around the grounds and castle, I’d been working on my plan to get to Rome and my father’s journals. Damon insisted we were staying overnight and hitting Vatican City at sunrise. Security barriers and boss aside, I had a different plan.
As if someone were reading my mind, every time I made an excuse to head back to the room, a supernatural would grab my arm and ask for an autograph. Or shake my hand and ask me to tell them about the time I killed and disembodied Queen Maria or some other supe on my hit list. My reputation had spread farther in the international community than I’d suspected, exaggerated stories spreading with it. I found myself clarifying and setting straight more than a dozen false accounts, disappointing my audience until I gave up and went along with whatever they thought. Arguing was pointless.
After dinner, we were invited to a fighting exhibition in the training center. Instead of watching mindless TV or playing Xbox games, the supes gathered under a dome and showed off their skills for a couple of hours.
Cole and I had just gotten settled in to watch the show when I was challenged by a male vampire whose hair dangled down past his waist. He swept the long, straight strands into a high ponytail, emphasizing his aristocratic features, and for half a second, I swore I saw Vlad the Impaler looking back at me. I begged off the fight, but the bastard wouldn’t take no for an answer.
“Chicken, Miss Sweet?” the cocky vampire called out.
People in the audience made clucking noises. Volante, in her usual spot on my arm, trembled from the challenge. From a balcony overlooking the ring, I caught Damon’s eyes. His thoughts overrode the internal cursing inside my head with a warm, familiar rush. Put the vampire in his place but don’t kill him. Yet.
I snickered under my breath, my demon laughing as well. The whole arena watched to see if I’d acquiesce. “Thunderdome,” I murmured to Cole who sat on my right.
“Roman coliseum,” he murmured back.
The group gathered here looked more Mad Max than gladiator to me, but Cole had been a gladiator back in the day. Had to give him credit; he knew what he was talking about.
Which meant I was about to be tiger meat.
Sal, on my left, shook his head. “I don’t like this.”
Join the club.
“Cut him off at the knees.” Cole slapped me on the back, not appearing to be at all concerned for my safety. “His weakest link is below the waist.”
I rose to accept the challenge and the crowd went wild, calling out, chanting my name, and yelling obscenities just for the hell of it. “Every male’s weakest link is below the waist,” I murmured.
This was so not my cup of magic. I glanced at Damon again, found Marco studying me closely. So was Valentina. The three of them formed a stunning threesome of demonness. Suddenly I realized this wasn’t just a fight to provide good-natured entertainment. This was a test.
I hate tests.
Pissed, I stomped my way across the open floor to my opponent. He didn’t scare me, but the idea that I was being tested didn’t sit right. I had nothing to prove, as my
reputation seemed to show, and yet, there had to be a very real and urgent reason for Damon to ask me to perform in this ridiculous dog-and-pony show.
The vamp grinned, flashing his pearly white teeth and fangs that were already distended. His aura was half cocky-shit and half superior self-righteousness. He’d thought about this moment. Planned for it. Thought about handing me my ass on a silver platter.
Why?
At the moment, it didn’t matter. Alright, buddy boy. Let’s see what you’ve got.
I smiled back, letting my demon flash in my eyes. His grin faltered for a second, then he turned in a slow circle, waving his hands in the air to further rile up the crowd. They cheered their pleasure at the theatrics.
Magic flooded the dome. I coughed and blinked several times to clear the tears in my eyes. Was this what it felt like to be on stage for the WWF?
When in Rome, I told myself, releasing my own magical energy. I brought up my protective shields and snapped Volante to attention. She shuddered and reached for the vampire, ready to go to work. “Semper paratus,” I yelled over the crowd.
The crowd roared, their voices echoing under the dome to the point of deafening me. Something in my blood rose to the occasion. I shot a glance at Cole, and saw he was on his feet, yelling with the rest of them.
Adoration is a funny thing. Once you get a taste of it, you only want more.
I swung Volante with lightning speed and cut the vampire off at the knees.
Chapter Nineteen
Two hours later, the wounded lay in piles at my feet. The cheering had ceased five minutes after the aristocrat fell, and a new energy had emerged. It was suddenly me against them. All of them.
After the vamp, their best warriors came at me one at a time. Some were better than others. None had my hybrid Frankenstein blood. All fell.
Then they came at me in pairs, and finally in groups. Took me longer to fight the groups, but in the end, they all went down and didn’t get back up.
Blood and other bodily fluids dotted my clothes, hair and face. Volante dripped red. My left shoulder was out of place, my right knee cap shattered. Bruises and cuts covered my body.
My blood couldn’t keep up with mending all the damage. I could have used one of Rad’s healing runes.
I glared at Marco and Valentina who’d insisted more of their warriors come at me even after I’d damaged so many. I flicked the whip as Marco called out to another of his lieutenants. “Beldon!”
“No.” I staggered to the edge of the arena as best I could with a broken knee cap and stared up at the archdemon. The knee was mending itself, but I was sick to my stomach. “Enough. Whatever you wanted to prove, we’re done. I won’t hurt anyone else.”
Marco vaulted over the edge of the balcony, landing gracefully in front of me. That grace contradicted the brutal anger in his aura. “He said you could do it, but I didn’t believe him.”
No need to explain that Damon was who he was talking about and my boss had told him of my extraordinary abilities. “What do you want?” I countered. “Why would you put your followers through this?”
His arm reached out so fast I couldn’t follow. His fingers went right through my shields, weak from the constant hits of both fists and magic, and wrapped around my neck.
In a heartbeat, Cole and Damon were by my side. Cole took a swing at Marco, but Damon blocked his fist.
Only because Damon wanted to do the honors. Grabbing Marco by the neck, Damon lifted him from the ground and threw him into the seats.
Those with medical training streamed onto the floor of the arena, tending to the fallen. At the sight of Marco taking a whooping from Damon, Valentina swung into action, but not before I noticed the subtle, calculating grin on her face.
She ran to Marco’s side, helping him sit up. As she tended to him, she shot daggers at me and Damon.
Cole grabbed me up in a bear hug and swung me around in a circle, crushing my bruised and cracked ribs. “Amazing, Kali.”
He set me on my feet and my knee gave out, but his hands held me up as he grinned down into my face. “You’re a machine.”
I was a machine all right. Rubbing my neck where Marco had grabbed me, I faced Damon. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing with your dickhead Bridge friend, but I’m done.”
I left him there with his cronies. Cole put an arm around me to help me to the nearest exit. Sal and Isi waited for us.
“Are you hurt?” Isi said in a small voice. Her eyes were wide and she hung back as if scared of me. “I can get you medical attention if you want.”
“Go help your friends.” I brushed past her. “I don’t need you.”
It was rude and I berated myself for it as I dragged my tired limbs upstairs, Cole and Sal silent on either side of me. But I was wiped out and pissed off. Not even the super cocktail of mixed bloods could fend off the pain and emotions rolling through me.
When I reached the room I shared with the shifter, I motioned Cole and Sal inside. “We need to talk.”
With everyone in the dome, this was my only chance to speak to them without worrying about someone overhearing us. Cole sat me on the bed, then disappeared into the attached bathroom.
Most of the cuts and bruises were already healed, thanks in part to the extra dose of Dru blood I’d had the night before. The knee, shoulder and my aching ribs would need more time. Cole emerged with a wet washcloth and handed it to me. As I dabbed at my bloody lip, he motioned for me to brace myself so he could pop my shoulder back into place. Hard to do with my busted knee cap. “Help me out here, Sal.”
The priest paled but did as instructed, holding me firm as Cole yanked on my arm. The pain was sharp and I felt it down to my toes. I didn’t cry out, just added it to the throbbing my entire body was doing.
Sal released me and I hung my head between my knees to keep from retching. Once I could manage it, I raised my head. “I’m heading to Vatican City at midnight. There’s a tunnel I can access outside of Rome that will take me to a spot where I can access the archives. Once I have the journals, I’m out of there and headed back to America, with or without Damon. You in?”
Cole didn’t even blink. He hefted my feet onto the bed, despite my protest about my knee, and wrapped it tight with some strips from one of Isi’s white cotton shirts she’d left lying on the floor. “Why midnight? Why not now?”
Seemed obvious I was in no condition to take off right at that moment, but already my shoulder felt better.
“Now?” Sal rubbed his head. “This isn’t the plan. I’m supposed to retrieve the documents, not K—”
“Are you in or out, priest?” I flexed my shoulder, then my knee. Cole’s brace would support my leg while the knee cap mended. My arm moved stiffly, but I could rotate it without blacking out from pain. “Your assistance may be useful but is not required. I can do this without you.”
Flustered, he ping-ponged his gaze from me to Cole and back. His jaw tightened, relaxed. Tightened again. He blew out a disgusted breath. “In, I guess. God help us all.”
I leaned back against the pillows and looked at Cole. “I have something I have to do before we take off. That’s why midnight.”
He searched my face for answers as to what I was planning. “Need backup?”
“It’s a girl thing.”
Both of them looked skeptical and I almost laughed. I’d just taken on close to a hundred supernaturals in the arena all by myself, and they were still questioning my abilities.
Males. My life is blessed with more than my fair share.
After several minutes of Sal grilling me with questions I wouldn’t answer, he took his leave, agreeing to meet us at the carport behind the castle. I wasn’t up for threatening Damon’s pilot to fly us to Rome. We’d borrow one of those fancy SUVs from Marco and Valentina. The least they could do for siccing their soldiers on me.
“How’s the shoulder?” Cole asked, rewetting the wash cloth and cleaning dried blood from my temple.
Exhaustion se
t in. I needed a shower, a nap and some protein, but what I wanted were answers to my questions.
I moved my arm in an arc, showing the War demon it was healing. I even held back a grimace. Cole needed to be focused on our mission, not my minor aches and pains.
“There’s no better feeling than standing victorious in the arena,” he said.
“Satan, save me. You’re not going all Spartacus on me, are you?” I tried to take the washcloth from him, but he smacked my hand away and continued his ministrations.
His aura was full of pride. Not for himself, but for me.
That pride made me wonder. “Were you in on it?”
His dark eyes met mine. “On the gladiator showdown? Of course not. I had no clue that was coming.”
That made two of us. “Why would he do that to me?”
A lift of his shoulders. Continued cleaning of my wounds. “Proving something to his friends?”
“That was my thought, too, but why? Aren’t we all on the same side?”
“Maybe not.”
“There’s dark magic in the walls. In the very air. I’m not sure what’s going on.”
His fingers lifted a section of my hair. The cuts on my scalp and face had already healed, but blood remained clotted in my hair. “A lot of demons in one spot. Could be nothing more than simple genetics.”
I grimaced as he tugged at the knots. “It’s more than that. I can feel it. But even if there is something underhanded going on behind the scenes with Marco and his employees, why wouldn’t Damon simply tell me he wanted me to show them what I could do? Why did he…”
I broke off and Cole read my mind. “Throw you to the wolves and hope for the best?”
Exactly.
Betrayal. That’s what the show in the arena smacked of.
Giving up on his quest to clean my hair, he tossed the washcloth on the floor. “You’re his prized weapon, Kali. He wanted to show you off.”
“It was more than that.” I scooted around so I sat next to Cole with my feet over the edge. I flexed my knee, sucked in a breath at the sudden pain. Close, but not healed yet. I willed a little magic into it, hoping Dru’s blood would follow. “Have you noticed the weird dynamic between him and Valentina?”
