I turned back to him, frowning, both at his comment and the time. It meant I had a party to get ready for. “You heard me talking? What was I saying?”
He stared at me, dumbfounded. “I probably need to make one thing clear. I can take all this craziness pretty well, but after this trip, I need to know something.” He folded his arms. “Are you a crazy person? Is there something I need to know about you? This is the second time you haven’t remembered what happened, and haven’t given me an explanation. Tell me the truth. I don’t mind being in the dark, but I do expect honesty.”
I sighed. “I’m not crazy, and I’m not lying, Beckett. I swear. It’s just… something beyond me is going down, and I don’t understand it myself. Both times you just mentioned, I felt like I was in another place. The first time, I don’t remember saying anything. But just now…” I met his eyes, allowing my fear to show for the first time. “I met Amira, a demon. And we talked…”
He swallowed, glancing about nervously, as if expecting the demon to show up. “I think I saw her. For just a second. In that room… What did she want? What happened?”
I shivered, not sure how to respond. “It’s not good. She wants to meet tomorrow night at the old Kansas City Bread Factory. She said she’s going to kill more people in the meantime, but that we would finally have our confrontation tomorrow at midnight.”
He nodded slowly. “I know the place. It’s a wasteland,” he said, frowning. Then he remembered he hadn’t answered my question yet. “You were speaking Latin again. I couldn’t make out anything this time. It was too fast.” He cocked his head at the sirens. “I think we both need to get the hell out of here. Do you have a safe place we can go to discuss our next move?”
I glanced up at the sun. “Yes, and I can tell you about our next move as soon as we get there. Do you have a suit?”
He nodded with a frown. “Sure. Why?”
“We’re going to a party,” I told him.
It was time I pushed James Vane into giving me information, whether he liked it or not. Because I was running out of time, and Amira had sounded very aware of current events. As if she was behind everything, pitting the church against the Freaks – maybe even riling both sides up. Maybe she was behind this God is dead group, and maybe she also had a hand in the church.
I had been so busy chasing the pieces that I hadn’t realized we were playing a game.
That was about to change.
“Just a question, but what are Freak parties like?”
I smiled at him, grasping his hand. “Oh, they’re a real fucking blast, Beckett…”
He swallowed nervously, and then I Shadow Walked us back to the parking garage.
I let go and met his eyes. “Get ready and meet me at my place as fast as you can. The party starts at eight, but I’m sure we can be fashionably late. Arm—”
“For bear,” he sighed, cutting me off. “I got it.” Then I left, Shadow Walking to my apartment. I needed to find a way to outsmart this bitch, to turn the table on her. And probably let Roland know what was going on.
And tell him… that I might have had the Spear all along, and that it was much different than we had seen, and possibly in more danger than it had been before?
I sighed, and tried to call the Spear into existence. Nothing happened.
“Fine. I don’t need a shiny Spear to kick ass, just a killer dress,” I mumbled. Because if James Vane needed to be impressed to give me what I wanted, I would impress the hell out of him. Or burn the place down trying…
But first, a shower.
Chapter 31
We climbed a set of wide steps leading to the entrance of a mansion. The door was easily twice as tall as we were, and four times as wide. The valet had taken Beckett’s car after assisting us out of the vehicle, and the detective was shooting thoughtful glances at my dress when he thought I wasn’t looking. I smiled inwardly, but didn’t let my appreciation show on my face. Because I was more concerned about the fact that as soon as we had entered the property, my magic had disappeared.
Inaccessible.
I tried reaching for the cracked door inside me, and let out a sigh of relief as my fingers tingled pleasantly in welcome. I felt anticipation building inside me. The block on my wizard’s magic meant I was around my people, and that Vane’s information would likely be actionable. A pink tuxedoed butler opened the door, much too young and pretty to be a simple servant. More like a toy. He pinched Beckett’s ass on the way by, which almost made him draw down until I stepped between them.
The butler had the audacity to look offended, but quickly turned to the next couple behind us, who were outrageously drunk already, and seemed more than open to light petting. Beckett leaned close. “I’m being literal here, not homophobic,” he began. “But is he some kind of fairy? He was way too pretty to be real.”
I chuckled, shaking my head. “Nothing from my side.” Beckett frowned as if wondering if I was teasing him. “And who wouldn’t want to pinch that ass?” I asked, smirking as I turned away.
“Damn right,” he said without missing a beat. We entered a heavily wooded room that almost resembled the demon’s mansion by sheer audacity standards. I was immediately assaulted by a flute of champagne, as another pink tuxedo whisked past me, already pouncing on the couple behind us. I gawked up at two sets of silk streamers hanging from the ceiling a few dozen feet overhead. Two stunningly beautiful girls were doing the most interesting acrobatics – climbing, spinning, twisting, falling, and overall, looking sensual and inviting. They did this naked.
And they nailed the naked thing, judging by the blank stares from almost every male present.
I shoved Beckett with my shoulder and he grunted, not averting his eyes. Not an ounce of shame. He finally turned to look at me, still not showing any embarrassment. He leaned closer, and whispered, “Imagine the chafing!” before looking back up at them and clapping.
I burst out laughing, surprised by his reaction. He wasn’t as hard-boiled as I had initially assumed, but exhibited a playful side. I wondered if that had to do with his world changing around him, a world of magic. Most men would have feigned embarrassment, especially while standing beside their date. But Beckett openly acknowledged the beauty before him, and then made an utterly ridiculous joke about it all. Like we had known each other for years. He saw me studying him and winked back playfully. “I know you want to try.” He jerked his chin up at the streamers. “I’ll hold your drink.”
I turned away, ignoring his laughter. A grand marble staircase led from the center of the room to an upper floor railed walkway. At the top of the stairs was a massive painting – at least six-feet-tall – depicting James Vane in Renaissance attire.
I’d heard of this before. Using photo manipulation software to insert your face onto that of an actual painting. A bunch of assholes thought it made them look cool. I just considered it a passing fad. But… perhaps if I found a cool painting of a strong woman, I might like to at least see what I looked like. For fun.
“Arrogant bastard, eh?” Beckett said.
“We all are. In one form or another.” I hid my guilty flush. But I almost laughed out loud when I momentarily imagined getting one done with Roland’s face on a Vatican Cardinal or something. Maybe a Christmas present. He would hate it. Perfect. I’d have to ask Vane about it, because this one looked very well done. His artist was good.
Beckett followed me through a set of open doors to the left where I could hear a wave of human sounds and light stringed instruments playing. We stared at the mass of lounge chairs, couches, divans, and areas on the floor that were literally covered in pillows. Two fireplaces were lit on either side of the massive ballroom.
Upon closer inspection, I realized it was a library of sorts. Not just books, but art. From all over the world. The room was also designed with wood in mind – great mahogany and oak timbers decorated the ceiling, and wall-to-wall cabinets were built flush with the walls themselves, and covered in glass so one couldn’t simply grab
the items illuminated within by built in lighting. I saw everything from figurines to jewelry, books and manuscripts to small pieces of art, luxurious pipes, flasks, horns, mugs, jewelry boxes, and much, much more. Like a high-end antique shop.
Giant chandeliers hung from the two-story ceiling, bathing the room in a romantic glow, and a second-tier balcony lined three walls of the room, lined with priceless paintings – each with their own individual lighting. But… I gasped in horror as I realized that each of the paintings had been defaced with spray paint – as if we were in an underground subway. From beneath the paint, I could tell that the paintings were legitimately priceless, and not simple renditions. The gilding on the frames alone would bankrupt me.
With absolutely everything so beautiful and elegant, it was a jarring contrast to see such horror painted over such historic pieces. I was no art snob, and couldn’t tell one virtuoso from the next, but I had a feeling that if Nate saw this place, he would burn it to the ground on principle alone.
I hid my instinctive abhorrence to study the people in the room for the first time, my eyes catching onto the jewelry and coiffed hair, and…
Pale, sweaty skin.
I won’t say that everyone was naked and enjoying carnal activities, but I suddenly felt like I was witnessing an after-dark special. Dozens of groups – of all combinations – were draped over furniture, pillows, or even pretending to dance while they… consorted.
Somehow, the stringed instruments seemed to balance out the cries of pleasure so well that I hadn’t noticed it at first.
And no one seemed the least bit concerned. It was evident that the majority of guests had started off fully clothed, judging by the amount of furs, suit coats, jewelry, shoes, and everything else in various piles here and there. Sensing new guests accumulating up behind us, I grabbed Beckett’s hand and led him around the various orgies. He looked highly interested – scientifically, as was I – in several of the groupings, not unlike one would look at a contortionist with fascination. Not that they wanted to try it, but that they needed a closer inspection to understand just how complicated it really was.
We stayed near the edges, not wanting to accidentally find ourselves tag-teamed into the action, and came to a halt near a giant bank vault door built into a wall between two cabinets. Directly across from us was a floor-to-ceiling window that almost stretched from wall-to-wall. About a mile of thick velvet drapes concealed the party from those outside, but I guessed it was also to keep the chill out, because the temperature had dropped significantly. A cold front was moving in, and we had heard distant thunder on our drive over here.
I studied the room from our relative safety, the very definition of a wallflower, looking for Vane. Something about all of this was bothering me, but I couldn’t place a finger on it.
A bald man with a giant tattoo that seemed to cover the top of his head stood a dozen feet to our right, and a thick, fragrant cloud of smoke drifted into the air above him as he puffed on a canister. Vaping, I thought, shaking my head. He was large and shirtless, wearing only an elaborate kilt. “I had no idea who he was at the time,” the man said loudly. “We were at a Johnson Beaver concert, for crying out loud. But here’s the best part. I tried to take out this centaur, and accidentally punched that St. Louis wizard straight in the nu—”
The crowd around him burst out laughing, shaking their heads in disbelief, cutting off the end of his story. Many of them were completely naked, just standing around the kilted vaper without a care in the world.
Was he talking about Nate? I let my eyes scan the room, deciding that without Vane, I may as well go talk to this guy to get some dirt on Nate. But my gaze locked onto a familiar face across the room, and I instantly frowned, forgetting all about the kilted vaper.
Before I knew it, I was storming across the room. Beckett followed, batting away grabby hands for the both of us, and stopped behind me as I stared down at the man sprawled out on the red velvet couch who was smoking a cigar with one hand over his head. He was shirtless, his tan skin heavily layered with muscle, and his messy brown hair was sweaty. He smiled up at me, puffing away on his cigar. Thankfully, he still wore suit pants – even if his belt was undone – and expensive-looking dress shoes. Everything about him told me this was a celebratory cigar after a vigorous conquest.
“You,” I said in a low tone, recognizing Mr. Light Eyes from the coffee shop these last few days – the one who had been pestered by the religious women.
“I,” he replied, taking another lazy puff of his cigar.
“Who are you, and what are you doing here?”
He smirked. “Why, I was having a good time. You?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Just a traveler. A vagabond.”
“Why Kansas City?” I pressed.
“Oh, I spent some time in St. Louis, too. Not as fun, though.”
That struck me deeply after what I had seen at the demon’s house. “Why Missouri?”
He finally sat up, studying me thoughtfully. “Why indeed?” he replied, as if hoping that I had the answer. Seeing I didn’t, he shrugged. “Missouri loves company?” he offered.
I scowled at him, ignoring Beckett’s stifled cough. “Who are you?” I repeated.
“Some call me Cain,” he said offhandedly.
Now, in any other place, that name might not have made my skin crawl. But here? With a bunch of Freaks having sex all around me? Yeah. It did. He wasn’t really saying he was… His eyes twinkled as if reading my thoughts. And he gave me a slow nod, puffing his cigar happily.
“Why are you following me?” I asked instead, suddenly wary.
He chuckled, and then leaned in closer, speaking low. “I ain’t the only one following you, honey. Maybe I was following the one following you…” he said meaningfully.
I took a step back, suddenly recognizing his frame. “You… you’re the one from the alley. Just before the wolf…” Silver hood.
Cain nodded slowly, eyes very alert all of a sudden. Not afraid, but ready to react. I studied him thoughtfully. “That was a neat trick,” he said cautiously.
I ignored that. “You’re a murderer,” I whispered, feeling Beckett stiffen behind me.
“Sure. But sometimes a thing just needs to be done. Even if it makes you a pariah.” He shrugged. “But it’s only Freaks.” I leveled him with a flat stare, and he finally laughed. “Okay, you got me. Not just Freaks.”
“You can’t just go around killing people,” I hissed.
“Of course, I can. I do it all the time. Just not lately,” he said, eyes suddenly hard.
Beckett lunged for him and Cain simply disappeared as if he had never sat before us. His cigar rested on the ashtray beside the couch.
Beckett grumbled unhappily. “He’s the murderer?”
I met his eyes, speaking in a low voice. “I’m not sure about the current murders. I was referring to him being the world’s first murderer, and I think I was right.”
Beckett blinked at me. “What?”
“Cain and Abel,” I said. Beckett stiffened. “The sons of Adam and Eve.”
“You’ve got to be shitting me…” he said under his breath. “God is really real?” he asked, staring at me oddly, likely remembering that I worked for the church and hunted a demon.
“God is dead,” a new voice spoke from behind us. We both flinched at the phrase, recognizing it from the murders. But we kept our cool, turning to find James Vane smiling at us politely. “God remains dead. And we have killed him. How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers…”
I blinked at him, but Beckett spoke up. “Nietzsche…” he said, frowning in thought.
Vane nodded delightedly, then held out his hands at the assorted vices, as if connecting the quote to his guests. Then he turned back to us. “Welcome to my party. I see you scared off the… First,” he said in a cryptic tone, watching my reaction. I nodded, letting him know I understood. “He’s first in a lot of things, as a matter of fact.
First to come, first to leave…” he winked darkly, and I felt my face heating.
If that wasn’t a double entendre, I didn’t know what was. But I suddenly had a lot more questions than I had when I arrived. I opened my mouth, but he silenced me with a look.
“Let me show you around my home,” he said in a polite tone. “We can talk elsewhere.”
“I don’t think the local police would be pleased to find a brothel here,” Beckett said.
Vane blinked at him. “No one is buying sex here, Detective Killian, I can assure you. Let’s keep the government out of the bedroom tonight, shall we?” He glanced around. “Well, out of the living room, at least.” If Beckett was surprised that Vane knew him, he hid it very well.
Vane extended an elbow. Since he was still fully dressed, and obviously not walking off a sex marathon, I accepted the risk of touching him. I wanted to keep things as peaceful as possible, for as long as possible, in order to get my answers. But if he was involved with the murders, he would die. And he currently thought I didn’t have access to magic. The perfect fool.
He met my eyes. “I thought you were going to show me how fun you could be tonight…”
“I’m trying,” I said, forcing my features to a semblance of normalcy. “Cain threw me off. I’ve run into him a few times lately, but didn’t realize who he was.”
Vane clucked knowingly. “Yes, he told me about that. I only just discovered he was in town. From St. Louis, no less.” He glanced back at Beckett, and looked suddenly abashed. “I’m terribly sorry. Would you please take my other elbow?”
Beckett shook his head stiffly. “No, thanks.”
Vane pursed his lips. “If I wanted to pinch your ass, I would pinch your ass. Touching me will protect you from the overzealous,” he said, glancing pointedly out at the crowd. It was true. Anyone who walked too near to another group already in coitus was likely to be roped into the party, judging by what we saw happen twice in a span of seconds. “Our stimulating walk and conversation will go much smoother if you aren’t batting away affections every two steps. I assure you, you’d be quite the catch,” he said with an amused wink.
Feathers and Fire Series Box Set 1 Page 43
