Did I chalk it up as a win?
Or had that woman died? Or been abducted? I’d have Claire check with Beckett. Then again, I didn’t have much to go on. I had only seen her face for a fraction of a second. She had been young and pretty with thick brown hair, but nothing that would make her stand out in a crowd.
At least I had a funny picture for a memento. Maybe I would frame it.
Chapter 4
I stood in my living room, lost in thought.
“Well, that was… strange. Think she’s okay?” Claire asked.
I snapped out of my reverie, shrugging tiredly. “I didn’t sense any magic, so they didn’t make a Gateway or anything… Locked doors, no ladders.” I sighed. “Hope she’s alright.”
“I didn’t pick up anything either,” Claire frowned, tapping her nose as she indicated her heightened shifter sense of smell. “Other than that glass. It smells terrible,” she said, eyeing my pocket.
I frowned, taking it out. “It just smells… earthy to me,” I said, setting it on the counter.
Claire grimaced. “If by earthy you mean a rotten corpse after a week in a hot trunk…”
I scrunched up my face at her ridiculous exaggeration. Or… maybe it was just a shifter thing. Had we picked up different scents? “Were they all human? Faebio looked scared when they ran by, almost like he recognized them. Maybe a rival gang?” I suggested. But my eyes drifted to the bundle of glass. That scent thing didn’t seem normal at all.
Claire shrugged. “Human, I think. Not anything else that stood out, anyway. Oh, well. Can’t save everyone. You could always ask Roland. He’s been in town for a long time. Maybe he’s run across them before?” she said doubtfully.
I shook my head adamantly. “He’s in Italy still. Meeting with the vampire council.”
Claire grinned. “Bet that’s fun. They probably consider him a celebrity. The only vampire hunter turned vampire, right?”
I smiled weakly. “That’s the way he makes it sound. Unless he’s been lying to me on the phone… Either way, I highly doubt his reception is as glamorous as you imagine. Probably has a lot of enemies there, but his notoriety also grants him protection, and he has backup, just in case.” Nate’s vampire friend, Alucard, was keeping an eye on him. Being a Daywalker, Alucard also had celebrity status. I just hoped it was enough to keep them both safe.
Claire, sensing my growing silence, piped up with another terrible solution. “You could ask the other Shepherds… Maybe they’ll recognize the stuff on that glass.”
“No way. The Vatican is still pissed about my last visit to Rome. I don’t think they’ll be in a charitable mood. Or they would suggest a high price for the answers.”
Claire muttered something that should have earned her a smiting. I smiled in agreement. “Fabrizio likes you, right?” she asked. “Isn’t he in charge now?”
I nodded, smiling to myself. Fabrizio was one of the only pleasant experiences I had from Rome. A larger-than-life Italian man who I had dubbed Meatball for purely offensive reasons. In return, he had dubbed me Girlie Penflower rather than calling me by my name, Callie Penrose. “Meatball still has bosses. The Conclave.”
“Oh, that’s right. Your mantra thing,” she chuckled, shaking her head.
“Motherfuckingmilkeyedshitweasels,” I replied proudly. “The Conclave is a bunch of jerkwads. I need to let them cool off before I approach them again.” I tugged off my jacket and threw it over a chair, but not before inspecting where those pixies had struck me. Not a mark on the leather coat. I’d been told it was made of Gruffalo hide, whatever that was. Something magical and lethal, no doubt, and it apparently had purple spots on its skin, judging by the markings on the back of the jacket.
I frowned, thinking about the pixies, and realizing that I was distantly hoping they’d gotten away safely. I doubted they’d had much say in the matter when Faebio had thrown them at me. Then again, I’d heard some war stories from Nate Temple about the vicious Fae, so who knew? Claire was watching me, pointedly not looking at my jacket, but she was shifting from foot to foot eagerly.
“I’ll take you to get something soon, don’t worry,” I said, rolling my eyes as I turned to the kitchen on autopilot.
“Yes!” Claire hooted behind me. “Darling and Dear, forever!”
I paused in front of the fridge, debating whether I was hungry, thirsty, or ready to just go to bed. Claire placed a hand on my shoulder, squeezing supportively.
“The first step is admitting you have a problem,” she whispered, flipping my braided hair extension with a finger. “And you should wash this rat tail. You’ve gotten blood on it.”
I lifted it up, cursing as I realized that she was right. I unclipped it from my hair, tossing it on the counter with a grumpy sigh. Hopefully, I could wash it out.
“I don’t even know why you wear it,” Claire continued. “I like your new hair. Edgy. Bitchy,” she said, smiling to herself.
“It helps everyone recognize me. My long hair has a reputation. Everyone talks about it.” I gave her a level look. “Like people will soon know about your war teddy.”
Claire clapped her hands excitedly. “Teddy’s the man,” she agreed.
“And I don’t have a problem,” I argued, circling back to her original comment.
“Just grab a juice box. Stop denying yourself.”
I finally nodded in resignation. It did sound good. Some girls loved cupcakes. I loved juice boxes. Like a toddler.
“I’m going to update Beckett and then jump into the shower,” Claire told me.
I nodded halfheartedly, smiling to myself as I shoved the straw into the juice box and took a sip. The liquid nirvana struck my tongue, and the world became a happier place. I made my way over to the couch, taking another calming sip before plopping down.
The events of the night had me thinking about enemies.
Other than the Shepherds, I had made some other enemies during my trip to the Vatican.
The Knights Templar – or a fragmented remnant of the original Order.
And thanks to the fashionable scarves the Templars wore, they were immune to magic. I glanced at my dresser where a black scarf with a crimson cross on it hung from the mirror. Not the traditional crucifix, but a Cross Pattée – like an ornate plus sign. I had obtained a small pile of the scarves during a battle against the Templars in Rome – trophies of the men I had assassinated in my attempt to save Roland. Oddly enough, I didn’t feel any guilt about those deaths, which made me absently wonder about myself.
An odd sensation. To have a part of you question why another part of you didn’t feel something – an internal form of psychoanalysis.
Not wanting to leave the scarves lying around where anyone could have scooped them up, I had chosen to keep them. After some testing, I had decided to dye one black rather than keeping the faded white color. Something to make me stand out as different from the real Templars if I ever decided to wear it to a fight – because the immune to magic ability was pretty incredible. To my happy surprise, the scarf still worked fine – able to nullify any magic thrown at it. Maybe I could dye one in each color so I always had one that matched my outfit.
A magic-proof scarf could come in handy and be fashionably chic.
But the Templars – and their Commander, Olin Fuentes – were a problem for a later day. During our last encounter, he’d been infected by a werewolf before fleeing the scene. My best hope was that he had turned, and his fellow Templars had then turned on him as a result – because Templars hated Freaks. To find out that their leader was now what they hunted?
Sweet, sweet irony.
Anyway, the Templars were in Rome, and I had some house-cleaning to do here in Kansas City, hence our little adventure tonight. Cleaning up the streets.
I’d need to ask Haven – the Master Vampire of Kansas City – about the vampire we had just throttled. It was a simple courtesy to let him know I had harmed a vampire that may or may not belong to him – even if the man had been a waste o
f life, robbing from the poor. But it was better than Haven hearing only that I had brutalized a vampire and had forgotten to tell him about it.
Better if he heard my side of the story right from the get go.
I probably needed to reach out to Paradise and Lost, the de-facto werewolf queens of Kansas City, or whatever they had chosen to call themselves. Shared Alphas, perhaps. But I would see them in two days when we met with the real estate agent to check out that old church that Roland wanted to buy.
Because he needed a new home since he was also no longer associated with the Shepherds.
Paradise and Lost – of their own volition, I think – had adopted Roland as their savior, or something creepier, perhaps. Very touchy feely, if you asked me, but they were as loyal as one could possibly be, and anyone that kept Roland safer made me happier.
I wondered how their future pack would take that piece of news – that their leaders were beholden to a powerful vampire. Hopefully, they would see it as an asset. I knew Haven sure did. Not only had he gained an ex-Shepherd, but one with ties to the werewolf pack in town?
Score.
But Roland wouldn’t be back for a few more days. He was still in Italy meeting with the Sanguine Council – the Masters of the Master Vampires throughout the world. If I knew one thing about my old mentor, it was that he was probably as uncomfortable around the other vampires as they were around him. The vampire hunter turned vampire-in-law.
I took another sip of my drink, dismissing Roland from my thoughts as I heard the shower turn on in my bedroom.
I was confident that the motley crew of thieves we had encountered tonight weren’t beholden to their nations, but rather rogue thugs working together without supervision due to the chaos of leadership in recent months. Still, the current leaders of the city needed to know. I’d also mention Faebio’s warning about this mysterious other gang. Whatever could scare a group of Freaks was probably important.
Thinking on Faebio, I pulled out my phone and dialed Nate Temple.
My pulse didn’t quicken. I promise. He just had some prior experience with Fae. Maybe he’d know why a lone Fae was gangbanging in Kansas City.
But the call went straight to voicemail. “This is Nate. I’m on a wild vacation, so leave a message!”
I sighed, hanging up. Wild vacation was code that he was off in Fae. Again. Dangerous, but I couldn’t do anything about it, and he was a big boy. Maybe I could convince him to take me there sometime. All sorts of crazy things happened to those who visited Fae – slumbering abilities awakened inside a person. I shivered as I thought about it. Maybe I didn’t want to visit Fae. I had enough freaky stuff going on inside my bloodstream as it was.
Because I was part Nephilim and part wizard. Which had interested quite a few beings I really didn’t want anything to do wit—
A fist pounded on my door, making me drop my juice box in surprise. It was almost empty anyway, so didn’t spill all over my rug, otherwise I would have had a late-night murder to take care of before bed. I glanced down at my phone. It was two in the morning. I heard the shower still running, so knew I had to answer it myself or ignore it. Maybe it was just a drunk—
The fist pounded again. “Miss Penrose?” a muffled voice asked.
I sighed. No such luck. The person knew me. And only something icky called me Miss Penrose.
Looked like sleep would have to wait.
Chapter 5
A large, tall black man stood in the hallway. Long dread-locks hung down his back, and he wore dark jeans and a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled back to reveal dense muscle underneath his dark skin. He didn’t look entirely pleased to be here. That made two of us.
I knew him, unfortunately.
“Alyksandre,” I said sweetly. “What would daddy say if he knew you were calling on an unmarried woman at this time of night?”
This only seemed to further his discomfort. He glanced over my shoulder, and his eyes abruptly widened in alarm. I turned to see Claire standing only a few paces behind me, her pale skin glistening from the shower. She’d, um, accidentally forgotten her towel.
But she had her hands settled on the curve of her hips in case we failed to notice her nudity.
I grinned at her, but forced the smile down as I turned back to Alyksandre, arching an eyebrow. His jaw was hanging open, but I’ll hand it to him – he immediately dropped his gaze rather than ‘accidentally’ getting an eyeful. That alone was proof of his devotion to his cause.
Because he was a Nephilim. The offspring of an Angel and a human.
Claire sighed, almost sounding offended that he hadn’t gotten enough fuel for his memory banks later. Because Claire was a sleaze-ball. Alyksandre worked for the Angel in town. In case I ever forgot, it was very easy to remember this Angel’s name.
Because it was Angel.
“He needs to speak with you,” Alyksandre said in his subwoofer tone, directing his words at the floor of the hallway.
I let out a tired breath. I’d already played cat and mouse with Angel. Railing against him unnecessarily would only cause headaches later. He wanted me to work for him, but he had a funny way of ‘asking.’ For example, last time I’d heard from the god-squad, Alyksandre had escorted me to a greasy diner with another Nephilim pal of his to meet Angel, who then proceeded to demand my servitude. The meeting ended with me holding a silver blade to Angel’s godly scrotum. The time before that, Angel had sent Alyksandre to my church with a similar request. In response, I had kicked him out into the street, quite literally. Nothing against Alyksandre – he actually seemed like an okay guy – but I hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before.
Because I’d been battling a demon.
And Angel hadn’t offered any help. Not even a Nephilim or two for cannon fodder.
Yet like a persistent STD, Alyksandre had returned, asking – again – for me to meet up with his boss. After the blade-to-the-crotch meeting, Angel had given me a week to answer his summons… but that had been months ago, thanks to my recent travels. With a resigned sigh, I decided I’d made him wait long enough to prove my point – since our last visit hadn’t done so.
It was probably for the best to get it over with. Let him know – officially – that we wouldn’t be coworkers any time soon. I’d had enough of organized religion, let alone signing up for military service to the lamest-named Angel in the family.
But we didn’t need to be enemies, either.
“I’ll be back soon,” I told Claire, suddenly longing for my bed, wishing I had denied myself that juice box. Maybe I would have slept right through Alyksandre’s pounding on the door. Or I would have awoken to a murder scene when Claire killed him for trying to break in. Yeah, this was probably the best outcome, all things considered.
Claire immediately opened her mouth to argue. “But—”
I turned to give her a very significant look, silently letting her know I didn’t want her to go because I didn’t want these guys to have any reason to be interested in her… as possible leverage.
She picked up on my sincerity at least, and finally nodded. “I’ll just read a book or something. Because you won’t be gone that long.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a demand. I curtsied gracefully and let the door close behind me. Alyksandre let out a breath of relief to see he was safe from the deadly, wet, naked, blonde temptress. I followed him to the parking lot, wondering exactly how we were going to get to his boss. Some magical Nephilim mode of transport.
I was crestfallen when Alyksandre approached an early-nineties Mazda Miata. A bright red convertible.
I climbed inside, not wanting to mock his chariot of salvation.
I did smile at the custom license plate – OLTSTMNT. Like Air Force One.
He pulled out of the parking lot, keeping his eyes pinned to the road as he drove. He even kept both hands on the steering wheel. And he hadn’t pulled out of the lot until I had my seatbelt buckled. He even judiciously checked his mirrors in case a demon had slipped in
to his ride to readjust them while he was knocking on my apartment door.
This confirmed that I could never work for his operation. On principle alone.
Alyksandre cleared his throat after a time, preparing to participate in casual conversation. “You and… you two are together?” he asked in a polite, yet clearly uncomfortable, baritone.
I blinked, momentarily wondering if I had missed part of the question. Then it hit me. He thought Claire and I were dating? Because she’d answered the door naked in the middle of the night, obviously fresh out of the shower?
I almost burst out laughing, but instead, I chose to let the awkward question hang unfulfilled in the air, making the drive even more awkward for him. Petty, perhaps, but I was tired and not pleased by Angel’s interruption. And silence was a formidable weapon. Also, anything I could do to make his kind uncomfortable would only help discourage them from wanting to work with me in the future. So, he thought I was shacking up with Claire? Perfect.
Sensing I wasn’t going to answer, and that my silence was the answer, he grew rigid, not risking any further questions.
I turned to face him openly, watching him as he drove, increasing his discomfort. He used his blinkers about a minute before necessary. He rode the brakes if he sensed the wind changing. He was big, filling the space of the tiny car like a gorilla. And he still looked about as uncomfortable as he did when he saw Claire’s glistening lady bits. I leaned closer, toying with him.
He recoiled, pulling away as if willing to jump from the moving car if I came any closer.
I frowned. “You’re… not comfortable near me.”
His jaw tightened. “We should have a chaperone.”
I waited for him to laugh.
Then I realized he was deadly serious. That it wasn’t acceptable to him to be alone with a woman. I finally let out a sigh. “You know, when I kicked you out of that church it wasn’t personal, right? I was upset. A less than reputable gentleman might even say I was cranky…”
Feathers and Fire Series Box Set 2 Page 3
