Luckily, Claire had been curled up on the couch in my fluffy pink robe, ready to calm me down. She’d had hot chocolate already poured for me and had Fist of Legend – the Jet Li version – paused on the TV at the opening fight scene.
Upon seeing me, she smiled, clicked play, and patted the seat next to her.
I lost myself in the fight sequences of the movie, marveling at the choreography until it distracted me enough to think more rationally and to relax.
I muted the screen and turned to Claire, shifting my jacket to the side since something sharp was poking my neck. A buckle or something.
“You better?” Claire asked, smiling encouragingly.
I let out a breath. “I guess,” I murmured, staring at the apartment upside down as my head hung over the top of the couch. The place was a mess – discarded clothes on chairs, empty cups and a dirty bundle of fabric on the table… I blinked, turning to peer over the couch at the bundle.
Then I stood, scooping it up. I hefted it in my palm with a sudden smile.
“I may just be a crazy cat lady queen, but I can do this,” I told Claire. “This is normal.”
She frowned at the fabric and the broken glass inside from last night in the alley. “It’s really not that normal,” she said, frowning.
I scowled at her and brought it back to the table, unfolding it to reveal the pieces of blue-stained glass we had picked up from the alley.
I moved them around with my fingers absently, thinking. “I’ll need to do some tests, but Roland taught me enough to possibly track where it came from.” I moved a few more pieces of glass. “I think.”
Claire reached out, inspecting a few of the pieces, her nose bunched up at the noxious smell she had told me about. I still smelled only the earthy scent, so I stood from the couch, scanning my apartment. Did I have what I needed for the spell here? If not, I could always hop over to the training area beneath Abundant Angel Catholic Church – even though I didn’t work there anymore, I had helped gather the ingredients in the storage closet—
Claire grunted, sounding surprised. “Maybe we should just go to this address.”
I spun, turning to face her. “What?”
She held out one of the larger pieces of glass. “It’s got an address stamped on it. Must be from the bottom of the bottle, or whatever this used to be.”
I frowned at her. “Who the hell brands their glass?”
Claire shrugged. “An old company?” She inspected it closer, pinching her nose. “All I can make out is the address. No company name. But it’s here in Kansas City.”
I shook my head. “Too easy. Maybe it’s a trap. Or the woman bought it at an antique store and used it to make… magic blue Kool-Aid.”
Callie squinted up at me, setting the offensive glass back on the table. “You just want to do your ritual thingy.”
I folded my arms stubbornly. “That’s not fair.” To be honest, rituals and spells like this weren’t really my forte. I could do them, but I wasn’t great at them. Roland had always insisted upon prioritizing self-defense, stating that there were other easier ways to find information when necessary. Or perhaps that we would be guided where we needed to go if necessary.
Well, I hadn’t ever received any texts from God, so I probably should have paid more attention in his introductory lessons.
Fact was, I wasn’t sure going to the address would do any good. The glass could have just as easily been left behind by the pursuers, not the woman. But… Claire hadn’t sensed anything magical about them, so what was the harm in chasing down the lead? Maybe we would catch the guys, at least. Give them a talking to.
“Fine. We’ll do it your way.”
She grinned. “You will grant me estates and titles when you resume your throne, Solomina.”
I winced. “I’m fresh out of both estates and titles to grant. And that is a horrid name. Where is this obvious trap set?” I asked her, shrugging on my coat and pocketing a few weapons lying about the apartment – two wooden stakes resting in the candle holder in place of candles, a set of silver knuckle dusters, and the pistols I had picked up at an antique store years ago. Matching Glock something or others.
They went pew pew when I pulled the trigger, which was all I really cared about.
Because sometimes guns were better. Shots were loud and could be heard from far away, and the familiar sound usually brought the police down upon the source of the noise. It also alerted any nearby innocents with a familiar sound of danger. Rather than seeing fireballs and bolts of lightning raining down out of a clear sky, inciting a panic, they could mentally process a gunshot and know they should probably run or call 911.
I shoved the pistols in the shoulder holster Claire had tried on yesterday, readjusting it to fit me again. Then I glanced at Claire who was still in my fluffy pink robe, legs curled up beneath her on my couch. I arched a brow at her. “Aren’t you going to change?”
She shrugged. “I’m just going to shred what I wear, and I don’t want to ruin another set of clothes. I think I’m all out of spares here.”
“So, you’re going to wear my pink robe to a potential monster brawl.”
“The element of surprise…” she said, standing from the couch and stretching lazily.
I sighed. She kind of had a point. And it would be hilarious if we found nothing dangerous and she was forced to assist me in questioning people while wearing my fluffy robe.
I decided I didn’t want to talk her out of it. But I did want to talk to Gunnar Randulf – the Alpha werewolf of St. Louis, and Nate Temple’s best friend – to see how he handled the shredded clothes situation. Except, most men were shit when it came to clothing, so I would ask his wife Ashley instead.
Claire read off the address, tightening the robe’s sash like it was armor. I knew the general location,but needed to find a less populated area nearby. It wouldn’t do to open up a Gateway in the middle of a crowd, in plain sight of everyone.
I remembered once driving by a vacant building about a block away from the address, so pulled up the internet on my phone, searching nearby commercial properties for sale. The one I had driven by was still listed for sale, so I began swiping through the pictures, getting a feel for the general layout so I could open a Gateway there.
Claire was watching me, yawning. “Did you forget what we’re doing? The meeting with the real estate agent is tomorrow,” she said, referring to our appointment with Paradise and Lost.
I scowled over at her. “No. I’m picking out a drop spot for my Gateway. I need to get a feel for the place. Better results.” I swiped through a few more images of the empty unit. “I think.”
She watched me doubtfully.
Better off than I had started, I pocketed my phone, took a deep breath, and focused, imagining the empty retail unit. I hoped today wasn’t the day that the real estate agent had a hot prospect interested in buying the place. I had to be sure I got it right. Usually, I could Shadow Walk to a place I wasn’t as familiar with, but there had been… issues with Shadow Walking lately.
Namely, some giant, robed, Candy Skulled dickwads waiting to slice you to ribbons with glass claws. I would wait until I received the go-ahead from Nate – who said he was looking into it – before trying that anytime soon.
Long story short, Gateways were trickier – if you were concerned about being discreet, anyway.
I glanced at Claire, eyeing her robe as if to check that she hadn’t changed her mind since we would now have to walk a block through the city streets. Maybe she hadn’t noticed that part.
“We should probably hurry. You have a date tonight,” she said sternly.
I scowled at her. “It’s just a double-date with my dad to meet his girlfriend. Not a big deal.”
“It is a big deal. And I won’t let you be late,” she said in warning.
“Fine,” I mumbled, not very eager about the whole thing.
“Good. Let’s go fuck some shit up,” she said, fingering her new pale bracelet in anticipation.<
br />
“Or save a victim,” I said, opening up a Gateway. A ring of white fire erupted before us, revealing an empty room inside the commercial unit for lease. “Yes! It worked!”
Claire arched a brow at me. “Let’s be practical. This is most likely a trap or I wouldn’t be willing to wear the robe,” she muttered, then jumped through the Gateway ahead of me.
I heard a muffled curse.
“A big fucking man-cow!” Claire shouted in disbelief, out of sight. “I told you it was a trap!”
I frowned for a millisecond before jumping through after her. What the fuck was a man-cow?
Chapter 23
I landed on a rickety wooden floor, silver knuckle dusters on one fist and a wooden stake in the other, eyes darting about the room for something to hit.
Claire was motionless, staring up at…
Well, a big fucking man-cow.
I lowered my weapons, recognizing him, but my brain short-circuiting at the unexpected appearance.
The legendary Minotaur – a half bull, half man named Asterion – was a reformed Buddhist, according to Nate. And the large set of prayer beads hanging on his bulging chest kind of confirmed it.
“I’m not a man-cow,” he snorted to Claire, holding up his massive hands in a peaceful gesture. He was well over seven-feet-tall, covered in long, shaggy, brown fur, and wore a kilt and a pair of huge, custom-made boots. His thick, ivory horns threatened to brush the ceiling if he rose from his slouch, and a fat golden nose ring quivered in his wet nostrils. “I am Asterion, and this is King Midas,” he added, pointing to an older gentleman standing beside him.
King Midas – the fabled king cursed with the golden touch – perhaps in his mid to late fifties, judging by the hard lines on his forehead – was watching the exchange with amusement, not the least bit startled. He seemed to have a vibrancy of life to him, something that just made me want to smile as if a ray of sunshine had touched my face on a rainy day. He had crow’s feet at the edges of his glittering eyes, and his blonde hair was pulled back into a tight tail. He wore a crisp white suit and polished brown loafers – sans socks. He also wore a pair of tight leather gloves, in case he wanted to shake anyone’s hand or touch something. He grinned at Claire. “Nice robe, child. I’ve got one just like it, in gold,” he added, winking.
He might as well have shouted stupefy at Claire, for all the reaction she gave him.
Asterion’s eyes flickered over to me and he flashed me a relieved smile. “Callie! When I saw that Gateway appear, I figured it had to be you. The white fire,” he explained, pointing a sausage-sized finger at the Gateway.
I let it wink out, shaking my head. I knew these two from my trips to visit Nate in St. Louis, but what were they doing here?
Midas dipped his chin politely at me. “Miss Penrose. A pleasure.” Then he turned to Asterion. “It seems we will have to buy the place, now…” he said, sounding only mildly inconvenienced.
“What are you doing here, Asterion?” I asked in disbelief.
“I was escorting Midas through his weekly real estate interests,” Asterion said, fingering his prayer beads subconsciously.
“And… one of those interests just happened to be a property in Kansas City where I opened a Gateway,” I said doubtfully, placing a reassuring palm on Claire’s back. She jumped, so focused on the giant Minotaur that she hadn’t paid attention to my approach. She flashed me a demanding look. “This is Claire Stone. A bipolar shifter bear.”
“Polar bear shifter,” she corrected, face flushing slightly as she glared back at me.
I nodded. “Claire, meet Asterion, Nate’s pal from St. Louis. And Midas Kingston, also from St. Louis,” I said carefully, wondering exactly how I was supposed to formally introduce him.
Claire assessed him, sniffing the air curiously. He smiled back at her, shrugging. “Not a monster. I just like gold, Claire.”
I grunted. “This is too much of a coincidence…”
Midas coughed, shooting a look at Asterion. “I’ll just go check on the real estate agent. She’s probably too busy on her phone to have noticed any of the shouting.”
“Didn’t she notice the giant freaking Minotaur?” Claire muttered under her breath.
Asterion frowned at her. “She knows us. But your sudden arrival could have been… unnecessarily complicated. She’s a wizard, you see…”
“Let’s get back to the part where you explain why you’re interested in Kansas City real estate. Not that you aren’t welcome, but this could have ended very badly. I would appreciate some warning next time.”
Asterion nodded sheepishly. “We… have been keeping eyes on certain groups throughout Missouri. One isn’t far from here, and Midas liked the idea of having a nearby base of operations just in case we needed to do some digging.”
I felt some stars suddenly aligning to ruin my day. “Does this certain group spend time at a building about a block away?”
Claire piped in with the actual address.
Asterion’s jaw dropped open, his nose ring quivering at the sudden motion. “You know of the Hellfire Club?” he asked incredulously.
Chapter 24
I kept my face studiously blank. “Sure do,” I lied. “What do you know about them?”
Asterion was shaking his head in disbelief. “Have they done something to upset you?” he asked, twisting the hair at the base of his chin like a human would twirl his mustache.
“Yet to be determined,” I said carefully.
Claire was frowning at the massive set of prayer beads dangling from Asterion’s hairy chest, as if only just now noticing the odd necklace. I hadn’t told her much about the St. Louis crew, but Asterion was as solid as… well, gold. He worked for Midas Kingston – or King Midas, as he was historically known – and ran the St. Louis Fight Club – a place where Freaks could go to let off some steam.
One could literally pull out all the stops and fight to the death there and wake up the next morning in the comfort of their own beds. Pretty neat, actually. I was eager to test it out, but had also felt the need to keep my abilities under wraps. Having secrets was beneficial. Maybe I could get Midas and Asterion to privately open up the Fight Club for my next birthday party.
Nothing celebrated the gift of life like a birthday cake and friends fighting to the death.
This Hellfire Club sounded oddly familiar, like I had heard about it somewhere.
“I don’t see how they could have done anything to upset you. We’ve been keeping an eye on their members in St. Louis, as well, although they have laid low enough that we almost didn’t learn they even had a location there.”
“If you don’t think they are dangerous, why are you buying this place?”
Asterion smiled faintly. “Nate Temple has taken a sudden interest in his… subjects.”
Claire frowned at that, turning back to me. I hadn’t brought her up to speed on events in St. Louis, wanting to clean up my own house before worrying about our sister city.
“Who are they?” I asked, realizing too late that I’d just proven I had no idea who they were.
Asterion shot me a puzzled look. “Witches. Fans of the occult. Other supernatural loners.”
Claire folded her arms smugly, proud that her assumption that we were going to find trouble at the address had proven accurate. “You don’t say?” she said, smiling over at me.
“Witches?” I asked incredulously. “We have honest to god witches in town? How is that not a concern?” I asked, alarmed. Witches were nasty. Well, if they wanted to be, and most did, according to what Roland had taught me. Then again, what I had been told had been fed to me through the objective and altruistic lens of the Vatican.
And we all knew how much they loved their witches.
Maybe it was a knitting circle of retired, middle-aged women who had practiced medicine.
But if this Hellfire Club was really witches, they were capable of brewing a broad array of potions – curses, spells, and healings – with their obscure ingr
edients. Where wizards typically focused on directly impacting the elements to their will, witches focused on directly combining substances of the earth into something greater.
A difference of semantics, now that I thought about it.
But give a witch a little forewarning, and she could be downright lethal. Curses and potions attached to her belts like Batman’s utility belt, ready to shatter vials of unpleasantness upon her foes like nuclear rain. Fighting a witch was tough, because there was no direct element to defend against. You were at the mercy of battling whatever vial or brew she had created, hoping you had chosen the right defensive maneuver when the glass grenade cracked.
With a wizard, you knew – typically – what you were getting into… a street brawl.
With a witch, you were playing a game of cards where they always played ten hands ahead.
Now, given the chance, a wizard could quickly execute a witch with sheer force. But give her even a fraction of warning, and she could curse your entire bloodline for generations. Or turn you into a goat. Or… any number of things, really.
I shook my head, waiting on Asterion to answer, to explain their interest.
Midas came back into the room, whistling softly. “It is done.”
I blinked at him. That could be taken all sorts of ways. “What is done?” I asked him warily.
“I bought the place.”
Claire grunted. “Just like that. You… bought the place.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, as if demonstrating the creakiness of the floorboards. Then she pointed at a large hole in a nearby wall. “Hope you got a good deal…”
Midas chuckled. “I always get a good deal,” he said, chuckling as he walked over to a low-hanging chandelier. He took off a glove and touched it with a finger, closing his eyes. In a flash, the chandelier transformed into gold. Claire gasped in astonishment. Midas was grinning at her again as he slipped his glove back on. “And I know how to get a good return on investment.”
Claire shot me a stunned look. “You saw that, right?”
Feathers and Fire Series Box Set 2 Page 11
