“He did this in front of new members at the church, Callie. And you put him up to it. You paid him to ask it!”
“COFFEE!” a banshee shrieked from outside, full of anguish and misery and frustration – like an entrance to the deepest pit in Hell had briefly opened up outside the church.
“We should probably go,” I said, shooting disarming smiles at the frowning congregation members, the mothers suddenly clutching their children to their hips protectively. I quickly shuffled Father David and the older woman out the door. Claire was on the verge of a meltdown. Ever since becoming a shifter bear, sleep was kind of a high priority for her, and I’d kept her out late. Then – without warning – woke her to let her know we were going to church.
“We’ll continue our conversation at the drug dispensary,” the woman said in a very crisp tone.
“Coffee shop,” I corrected, frowning at her.
“Like I said, drug dispensary,” she replied in the exact same tone.
Thinking about that, I wondered if I should get Cain and Dorian as far from the coffee shop as possible while I had a chat with this apparently orphaned ray of sunshine Father David seemed so insistent upon me meeting. I had a feeling she didn’t suffer sin well.
Chapter 16
We sat in my java joint – the usual haunt for me to pick up my go-go-juice. It was close to both the church and my apartment, and I liked the crew of baristas here, as strange as they were.
Claire had ordered a double-shot of espresso, an energy drink, and a quad-shot latte with more syrup flavors than I could fathom, but I was confident that there was less milk than anything else in the cup.
Dorian was whispering to her, pointing at the energy drink and then the latte, as if encouraging her to mix the two together. She was giving his suggestion serious thought before I reached over and snatched up the energy drink.
“Finish your appetizers first,” I scolded her, shooting Dorian a look as well. “When I’m confident you aren’t hearing colors, I’ll give it back.” She stared at me for a few seconds, face devoid of all humanity, before scooping up the espresso in one hand and the latte in the other, double-fisting.
She downed the espresso, set the empty cup down, and began drinking her latte, eyes locked onto the energy drink in my hand.
Father David and the old woman each had a tea in front of them, and she appeared to be listening to Cain with a faint, but appreciative, smile. I hadn’t noticed that she had sat down between Cain and Dorian, but I couldn’t think of a courteous way to extract her out of the Devil’s palms so to speak, so I abandoned her to fate. Maybe they would scare her away before she could pounce on me. I watched in astonishment as she reached out to pat Cain on the hand.
“Such a sweet boy,” she said. “We need more men like you in St. Louis.”
I blinked in disbelief – at both the exchange, and the mention of St. Louis.
“Thank you, Greta, but St. Louis is a little too… high-brow for my tastes,” Cain said, smiling.
Dorian leaned over. “That is a delightful cardigan, Greta.” He gently brushed his hand down the fabric. “It truly brings out your eyes. Is it custom fit or do you just make it look that way?”
I hadn’t heard her introduce herself, but Dorian and Cain had. I’d been too busy making sure Claire didn’t give herself a heart attack. Greta actually blushed, absently straightening the sweater. “I often wonder where all the good men have gone,” she grinned. “It seems that two of them are right here in Kansas City. Bless you, boy, even though I should be old enough to shrug off your flattery.”
“The Lord works in mysterious ways,” Dorian replied with a wicked grin. “But I am just a humble servant, sowing what good seeds I can.”
Claire choked on her latte at his double entendre, and Cain began patting her on the back forcefully, asking if she was okay.
I slowly shook my head. This couldn’t be happening. This hateful old woman thought the two worst people at the table were good little choir boys? Talk about bad character judgment.
“Well, while Dorian is off sowing his seed, my name is Callie and this is Claire. Greta, right? Pleased to meet you. David said—”
“Father David,” the woman corrected me, pursing her lips. I felt Dorian and Cain casting disapproving looks my way.
I gritted my teeth, ignoring the two bastards. “I didn’t feel the need to specify, because I didn’t notice any other David’s lurking about the table.”
“Here, now, Callie. You should show him the respect of his title,” Dorian said gently.
“And respect for your elders,” Cain added.
Greta flashed them another genuine smile, but Father David’s shoulders were tense, his mouth hanging open as he stared from Dorian to Cain in disbelief. He knew who they were. He was aware of the supernatural community. He was just as shocked as I was. I wondered what the hell this introduction was really all about. And why my friends were antagonizing me.
“Right.” I turned to Father David in mock solemnity. “Sorry, Daddy. I’ve been naughty.”
Claire spit out her latte in a coughing fit, and David’s face went white as a sheet, in stark contrast to Greta’s rapidly purpling face. Dorian was leaning back in his chair, covering his face in mock horror, but I knew he was really concealing his devilish grin.
I frowned at Father David. “Did I say that wrong? I meant, forgive me father, for I have sinned. I guess it really is all about the delivery,” I mused to myself as if at an inner thought. “Father David mentioned you wanted to speak with me,” I said, pretending not to notice her quivering outrage as I took a sip of my coffee.
“Yes, well…” Father David said, quickly reaching out to pat Greta’s hand reassuringly, calming the old bird down. The sooner this was over, the sooner I could get to more important things. I wanted to go have another talk with Nameless to see if he had learned anything about the catacombs or the winged cowboy. I also had a few calls I wanted to make.
I didn’t even want to think about the Whispers and their seemingly conflicting comments in the Catacombs. Roland was the only one I dared ask about that, but he was gone. Maybe a little shopping therapy with Claire would make us both feel better.
I noticed a woman a few tables away reading a magazine. Had she been looking at us?
Or was my sleep-deprived brain making me paranoid?
“I want to know what kind of woman you are, child. And so far, I’m not impressed.” Greta glanced at Cain and Dorian who were smiling sweetly, leaning forward as if to hang on her every word. “Although these two may help balance out your rough edges.” Dorian placed a hand around her shoulders in a brief hug of gratitude at the compliment.
Greta blushed.
I turned to Father David. “Okay. My patience is gone. Who the hell is this again? For a second there, I thought maybe the Pearly Gates had been left unguarded.”
Everyone stiffened at that, and Greta’s face went right back to that lovely purple hue that matched her custom cardigan. I let out a measured breath, closing my eyes for a few moments. Then I opened them and turned back to Greta. “I’ve had a long night. Let me rephrase my question. Who the hell are you?”
Cain clucked his tongue, shaking his head in disapproval. Dorian was openly frowning at me.
Claire may as well have had a bowl of popcorn in front of her, her eyes twinkling merrily as she slurped her energy drink loudly. Wait a minute… Dorian looked suspiciously innocent. He must have somehow stolen it from me to feed Claire’s addiction. I let it go. One fight at a time.
Greta answered through gritted teeth. “I am Greta. One of Father David’s friends from St. Louis.”
“And that matters to me, why?” I asked with a brittle smile. Something about her just rubbed me the wrong way. Storming in here like the matriarch of women everywhere, holier than thou attitude, and I was expected to prove to her that I was a good little girl? She was obviously a poor judge of character if she believed Dorian and Cain were innocent cherubs.
“Are you a
devout woman of God?” Greta asked.
“Can anyone be?” I answered her, waving a hand. “That’s a loaded question. I try to do good as often as possible.”
“As often as possible…” Greta repeated, not sounding swayed.
I nodded tightly. “I must have forgotten. What job did I apply for again? Why am I being interviewed?”
Father David cleared his throat, cutting off Greta’s response. “Let us start fresh. Callie used to work for the Vatican. Although her methods are… unorthodox, she has a big heart and a kind soul.” Cain coughed again, and Claire burst out laughing – quickly pretending she had read something funny on her energy drink. She even pointed it out to Cain, but he gave her a frown before refocusing on Greta.
Father David scowled at Claire before turning back to me. “Greta works for Nate Temple’s company in St. Louis—”
I slid my chair back from the table, alert for threats. The soothing hum of patrons in the coffee shop seemed to suddenly cease, either in response to overhearing mention of Nate Temple or because of my sudden motion. “What are you?” I asked in a low tone, locking eyes with her. I hadn’t sensed a lick of magic on the old woman, but if she worked for Nate, she might be highly dangerous, and she obviously didn’t like me much. Had I ever heard him mention a woman named Greta? Now that I thought about it, the name did sound familiar, but I couldn’t remember why.
Greta frowned at me. “I’m a humble old woman, girl. Sit back down. Now. You’ve caused enough problems lately.”
“Excuse me?” I laughed in disbelief, not realizing I had actually stood up at some point.
“I’ve heard about what happened at the Vatican. And what you’ve done in this city. Although you managed to do some good here, you did something terrible last night.” Her eyes darted about the room, and she leaned closer, speaking softer but still not that pleasant. “Sit. Down.”
“What do you know about last night?” I asked, slowly sitting back down and scooting closer to the table. But I remained alert for an attack.
“Attacking an Angel, of course,” she hissed.
I blinked at her. Then it hit me. The winged cowboy?
I suddenly felt very nervous. Was she really who she claimed? Did she really know Nate? Or was she using Father David to get close to me? “If I fought an Angel last night, then he was one of the Fallen…” I growled. “Nephilim fought beside me.”
Her lips thinned, and she looked on the verge of having steam burst from her ears.
Despite our intention of remaining quiet, many of the customers were studying us out of the corners of their eyes, pretending not to eavesdrop. The silence made it abundantly clear, though.
“He was not Fallen!” she hissed softly, actually quivering as if I had personally offended her.
I met her eyes levelly, forcing myself to think.
She lies… the Whispers cooed in my head. I flinched at the unexpected advice but regained my composure quickly.
“Get out, old woman. I’ve had enough judgment for one morning.” I didn’t know exactly what was going on, but my Whispers hadn’t steered me wrong yet. They’d actually saved my life a few times. But even without them…
I didn’t like this woman. Who did she think she was? I wasn’t about to take any crap from this bitter woman. Hell, I didn’t even know if she was who she said she was. How could she know about Angels? Especially an attack that had happened only hours ago? An attack that had put Claire and I in very real danger.
When Greta made no motion to move, I stood, snatching up my drink. “We’re leaving,” I said, staring at Claire.
“We should talk further…” Father David pleaded softly, trying to calm me down. “What could be more important than this?” he asked, holding out his hands, placating.
I walked around the table, grabbed Claire by the bicep, and pulled her to her feet. “Shopping,” I told Father David. “Bitches love shopping.”
Greta hissed, repulsed by my crass language – especially directed at Father David.
Claire nodded eagerly, understanding what shopping meant.
Greta opened her mouth, but I ignored her and pulled Claire after me. Darling and Dear sounded much better than this crap. I had plenty of other people I could call if I wanted to verify details on the events from last night. One person who was definitely getting a call was Nate Temple, to see if he really knew anyone named Greta.
Everyone in the coffee shop watched as I left, likely having sensed the hostility in our exchange with Greta, even if they hadn’t heard details. Maybe I had been shouting.
Greta hissed something at me as I walked out the door, but all I caught was …Solomon…
I turned to Claire. “Let’s go see Darling and Dear.”
She squealed excitedly, but I could tell she was distantly considering the conversation at the table. “I don’t know if I brought enough money with me to shop there,” she finally gasped, sounding horrified.
I gripped her shoulders, smiling. “Don’t worry. You don’t have to pay with money. Sometimes you just have to sell a part of your soul. Even a sleazy, shattered soul like yours has to be worth at least a bracelet or coin purse.”
Claire chuckled weakly, but something about my face made her smile falter and her face pale.
Chapter 17
The bell jingled as Darling and Dear opened the door for us. The two owners – possibly in an open marriage, definitely amoral and likely immortal – stood side by side, smiling warmly back at me. Then their eyes turned to Claire and they leaned forward to take a big ol’ whiff.
“Hmmm… a woman of the night,” Darling hummed. “I approve.” He absently combed his fingers through his long, sandy hair, his eyes dancing mischievously against his tanned face.
“A woman after my own black heart!” Dear cooed, bumping her hip – somehow erotically playful – against Darling. Her vibrant red hair was thick and luscious, and only emphasized her perfect alabaster skin. Neither broke eye contact with Claire, who was frowning as if wondering whether she should feel insulted about the black heart comment.
“Um…” Claire replied, glancing from one to the other. “I’m—”
“Claire…” Darling said, licking his lips as if he could taste it.
“Stone…” Dear added immediately, winking knowingly.
“Can we close the door before you two weird her out?” They turned to look at me in unison, arching their brows. “So it’s harder for her to escape, of course,” I added with an awkward smile.
They blinked, turned to Claire, and then burst out laughing.
They let us enter, closing the door behind us as we stepped inside, the smell of fresh, cured leather swamping me like a comforting blanket. Darling instantly wrapped his arm around Claire’s shoulders as Dear latched hers around Claire’s waist. I thought I saw her fingers graze Claire’s ass on the way, but my friend must not have minded too much, was too overwhelmed to notice, or I was imagining it. Then they were guiding her deeper into their store, leaving me to find my own way. I scowled, grumbling under my breath as they began telling her what she simply must have.
With a resigned sigh, I followed, inhaling the pleasant aroma permeating the labyrinth of a shop these two… beings ran. I wasn’t entirely sure what or who they really were, but they had treated me kindly, dealt fairly, and their wares had helped me survive more than one scuffle intact when I very realistically should have just died.
I slowed as I passed a placard that looked new – or at least recently dusted off.
Darling and Dear – Armorers of the Apocalypse. Established…
I frowned, leaning closer to rub off the corner, which hadn’t been fully cleaned off.
“Found that in an old box. Even the dustiest of boxes can have hidden pleasures…” Darling whispered directly into my ear.
I gasped, spinning, but he was easily a pace away, not French-kissing my ear canal like he had sounded. His eyes twinkled as he smiled back at me.
His words hit me, and I tr
anslated the double entendre.
Darling and Dear were grossly inappropriate. If you thought their comments could be interpreted as dirty or scandalous, that was probably their intent. And you had probably missed a handful of other sleazy references they had uttered. But they rarely spoke casually, their comments usually hiding multiple meanings. And some of those hidden meanings were very important, as if they attempted to conceal their advice in X-rated riddles.
With Darling and Dear, a dirty joke could actually save your life.
Long story short, these mysterious leather workers were into sex. Which kind of made sense, I guessed. They sold all sorts of leather goods to all sorts of interested parties. “Is it true?” I asked, pointing a thumb at the placard.
He shrugged, waving a hand. “Who else would you trust to keep all you silly mortals safe during such a highly violent disagreement?”
I blinked at him. “Disagreement,” I repeated in a flat tone. “The Apocalypse.”
He smiled.
“Right. I should probably make sure Claire isn’t halfway through an orgy.”
He shrugged, as if the likelihood was entirely possible, before leading me deeper into the store. I studied the goods around us, nodding absently as we passed the various… departments. Satchels. Bracelets. Armor. Shoes. And several areas that were a hodge-podge of different items, some looking very ancient.
“Did Temple like his satchel?” Darling asked in an amused tone.
“Oh, his purse?”
Darling frowned, glancing over at me. “Satchel,” he repeated in a warning tone.
I rolled my eyes, wondering if I would ever see the day where men admitted the truth. Changing the wearer’s sex didn’t suddenly make a purse a satchel, but it was funny to see that Darling carried the same delusion as Nate.
“He loved it. Got some good miles out of it in Hell, apparently.” I watched Darling out of the corner of my eye, waiting for a reaction.
Darling just nodded matter-of-factly, humming to himself as his fingertips adoringly brushed a whip as he walked by a… darker, date-night section of the shop. I saw a few masks and chained cuffs before I averted my eyes. Right. Freaks needed BDSM gear too, I guess.
Feathers and Fire Series Box Set 2 Page 8
