“That was the first time we realized that our Constance…had a beautiful baby girl. You have no idea how happy that made us. And for us to see you for the first time in a moment of victory. Right after you bonded a Fallen Angel, all on your own,” Solomon said, shaking his head in wonder. “Your mother would be so incredibly proud. I know I was.”
Richard nodded vehemently. “She would be honored to see the woman you have become. I just wish your circumstances had been different. That we had been able to save you at a younger age. That we could have been there for you.”
Solomon smiled suddenly. “Perhaps I could show you your mother’s old room…”
My jaw dropped to the floor, but Phix interrupted before I could answer him.
“Not to crash the party, but this place isn’t going anywhere. Your tour will have to wait. She really needs to get back to Kansas City to see for herself…” she told Solomon meaningfully.
I narrowed my eyes angrily. Kansas City could wait a few hours. I wanted to get the damned answers I had been seeking after all the heartache I had been through, but Cain met my eyes and shook his head firmly. He looked troubled but was trying to hide it.
Solomon turned to me, the skin at the corners of his eyes tightening. “Ah, yes. I had forgotten about that. Let me just show you how to return, Callie. You just take the Seal, and—”
“Wait. What happened in Kansas City?” I demanded. “Surely it can wait a day or two.”
Phix turned to look at me, shaking her head. “Kansas City has waited long enough for you. Because you’ve been gone for a year.”
I suddenly felt very, very cold. One year?
I calmly turned back to Solomon, barely whispering. “Can you please show me my mother’s room a different time? I need to go check on my friends…”
Solomon nodded sadly.
Because I suddenly remembered Roland’s promises to Fabrizio about what he would do to Kansas City if he thought anything bad had happened to me…
There’s no danger to the world quite like an angry man of the cloth.
Turn the page to continue with Callie Penrose in BLACK SHEEP…
BLACK SHEEP (BOOK 6)
Chapter 1
Cain stepped up beside me as I stared down from the expansive marble balcony of the fabled Solomon’s Temple to the spread of green gardens below. From this vantage, they resembled a patchwork quilt of new life—in a vast array of green shades. Plants, flowers, and fruits that shouldn’t have been able to grow beside each other were thriving in perfect harmony, despite all odds. New buds of color peppered the green quilt—flowers being born in a kaleidoscope of beauty that made any words obsolete. This scene demanded silence. Respectful admiration. Awe—
“It stinks here,” Cain grumbled, pinching his nose.
I elbowed him in the ribs, smiling in spite of myself. It smelled beautiful and earthy, the humid, warm air pregnant with life.
“You ready?” Cain asked.
My heart fluttered slightly at the question. Phix had only just told us about how long I had actually been gone during my trip through the Doors—a quest I had undertaken in order to gain access to Solomon’s Temple. My ancestral home.
It still felt surreal to be standing here, like I was standing in the heart of the Renaissance—back when all the now-famous art was first being painted or architecture being erected. Like I was the first person to see it all and know what it would one day become.
I had, quite literally, only seen the balcony where we now stood—a massive structure overlooking the gardens. The balcony stretched for over a hundred yards and was filled with all manner of furniture, art, sculptures, and plants; the roof soared high above our heads, supported by gargantuan marble columns.
And this was only one side of the outside of the vast Temple.
I considered Cain’s question pensively, thinking back on my city. Before I had left on my quest, Roland had warned Fabrizio—the First Shepherd—that if anything happened to me, he would drown Kansas City in rivers of blood. He had also sworn that he would hunt Fabrizio down like a dog, turn him into a vampire, and only then kill him—just to be sure Fabrizio’s eternal soul was damned and black-listed from Heaven. He had warned Fabrizio that only the entire might of the Vatican Conclave and its Shepherds would be able to save Kansas City from his wrath.
Even though Fabrizio was entirely innocent of any guilt—I had just learned that my trip through the Doors had lasted for one year and that most everyone thought me dead.
If one thing could be said about Roland, it was that he was a man of his word. There was a chance that he was still waiting for me, but the more I thought about it, remembering the look I’d seen in those eyes, and his promise to Fabrizio…I didn’t have high hopes.
I let out a breath, rolling my shoulders. “We will handle it,” I said, more confidently than I felt. I almost didn’t want to go back myself. Not because I was scared of what Roland had done.
No.
It was because I was terrified to see what his actions had done to him—a man of the cloth resorting to violence of the sort that he had previously only reserved for monsters. Except…now he was one of those monsters. And the only thing he still seemed to care about was my safety. So I feared that, if he had given up on my return and thought me dead, his actions may have broken something inside him—something he might never be able to recover. In that case, I was the only one who stood a chance of providing any possibility of his redemption—or saving Kansas City.
He needed to see me alive and well, unharmed and whole.
In my journey through the Doors, I had seen a stained-glass window on a church. In fact, that window had been what let me escape the Doors to earn the right to enter Solomon’s Temple.
And in that window had been a depiction of Roland and a childlike version of me, holding hands before a burning cross, with Heaven above, Hell below, and four haunting figures at the darkened corners of the glass. One of those figures had resembled Nate, I was sure of it, but the others had been only vague silhouettes. Terrifying, frightening silhouettes astride wicked winged beasts of nightmares.
Nate Temple’s new gang of Horsemen to balance the Biblical Four Horsemen.
But that was a problem for another day.
Roland, figuratively speaking, had rescued me from the Doors. Now, it was my turn to rescue him—from himself.
Solomon cleared his throat behind us and I turned to face him. He was a roguishly handsome older man with shoulder-length white hair and a well-groomed white beard. His tan skin was a sharp contrast to his white linen pants and shirt, and his green eyes held all the colors of his gardens below the balcony—brimming with life just as vibrant. The one majorly noticeable aspect of Solomon was that a good portion of his veins were black—looking like a root system beneath his skin. Everyone’s veins looked that way—you just couldn’t normally see them. He didn’t seem particularly affected by the veins, so I was assuming they didn’t bother him much. Or he had a high pain tolerance.
Richard—or Last Breath when in his lion form—stood in his human form at Solomon’s side, hands clasped behind his back. He currently looked like a tall Asian man, heavily corded with muscle and sporting short, black, spiked hair in a messy look. He had the ability to shapeshift entirely into any look he wanted but seemed to prefer this look so far as I had seen.
“Richard will go with you,” Solomon said.
I opened my mouth to argue, knowing that having any new faces at my side when I returned to Kansas City might only make matters worse—let alone if Richard shifted into his lion form and was recognized as Last Breath—the creature that everyone had heard so much about when I was last in town. The one everyone had thought to be hunting me.
Richard must have read the uncertainty on my face because he suddenly stepped forward in an almost aggressive manner, causing Cain to growl in warning as he set his feet and his hand shot to his hip where his bone dagger was tucked into his belt.
The dagger he’d use
d to kill his brother, Abel, so long ago. I placed a hand on his forearm.
Richard lowered his eyes in a submissive gesture, but his voice was anything but as he raised his eyes to meet mine. “I will simply stalk you from the shadows if you deny my aid. My purpose is to keep the Solomon bloodline safe, and thanks to your mother’s schemes—hiding your very existence from me since your birth—I have so far failed you in that capacity. I will not let my honor be discarded so easily now that I have finally found you.”
My mouth clicked shut, seeing the raw pain dancing in his eyes. He had a point. My parents had concealed my identity with a powerful ward so that those hunting me couldn’t find me when they left me on the steps of Abundant Angel Catholic Church as a baby. My mother had fled Solomon’s Temple, taking the ancient Seal of Solomon with her, before anyone even discovered she was pregnant, and hadn’t been seen since that fateful day at the church where they said their final goodbyes to me.
By coincidence or design—I wasn’t entirely sure which—I had discovered the Seal of Solomon in an underground vault in Kansas City. Using it had essentially turned my GPS signal back on, and Solomon and Last Breath had wasted no time in answering the call—in sending me on the traditional quest of searching out the infamous Solomon’s Temple, my apparent birthright as his only surviving heir.
A birthright that I had just earned, only to discover Kansas City was tearing itself apart in my absence, and that I didn’t have time to explore these halls, get answers to questions about my parents and possibly learn why they had seen the need to hide me from Solomon and Richard, giving me up to be raised by strangers rather than these two.
My mother’s actions led a very loud part of me to hold a certain amount of caution when dealing with Richard and Solomon. She must have had a reason to keep me from them. If a magical fortress on a different plane of existence wasn’t safe enough to raise me, how could an orphanage or adopted family be any safer?
So…
Part of me wanted answers from these two. Part of me wanted to keep my distance.
“You are our family, Callie,” Richard added, in a much gentler tone this time, reading the hesitation on my face.
“She already has a guardian,” Cain said, pointing at Phix. The legendary Sphinx—who had been lounging on a nearby fur carpet, cleaning her wickedly long claws with her teeth—paused to look up at us, blinking lazily…lethally.
Chapter 2
Phix could moderate her size to some extent, because I’d seen her the size of a horse and other times the size of a large lion. Somewhat like a centaur, she was a cross between a stunningly beautiful exotic woman from the belly button up and a feline murder machine from that merging point to her tail. White, feathered wings arched from her back, but they were currently tucked in close, surprisingly compact. She was curvaceous to a level that proved I could be envious across different species, and she both knew and relished the jab to my ego, never bothering to wear a shirt. Her thick, long, ebony hair hung down her back, and her purple eyes were like pools of eternal dreams that just might be able to hypnotize you. She loved riddles—primarily making you look a fool—and murdering pretty much anything.
She was also my friend and self-proclaimed Guardian—capital G, in her opinion.
Richard dipped his head respectfully at Phix. She watched him with her mercurial eyes, not responding. Phix was what one might call territorial—entirely comfortable with eviscerating, dismembering, and then feasting on the still-steaming flesh of anyone who stood between her and her toys. I, in this example, was one of her toys. At least that’s the way she saw it—I still wasn’t entirely sure why.
I also had uncomfortable suspicions about her self-proclaimed role as my ally, and not because I knew so little about her. No. It was something else entirely. Something I didn’t want to even consider thinking about at the moment.
Richard turned back to Cain. “Phix is her companion. Perhaps even a guardian as well. But I am family. Much like you, Cain.” He smiled faintly at the world’s first murderer. “Technically, I was family first. You should call me big brother,” he added, the corner of his lips curling up into a smile.
Cain’s hand actually gripped the bone dagger this time, and his smile was as sharp as a scalpel. “Come closer for a second so I can whisper a secret in your ear, Dick Breath.”
Cain thought it was amusing to combine variants of Richard and Last Breath in truly creative ways—as if he’d spent years doing it rather than the brief time they had known each other.
Richard’s shoulders tightened and his eyes narrowed dangerously. Phix’s purr was suddenly audible, even from this distance, like a small generator had just fired up. I flung up a hand, forestalling them. I rounded on Cain with a stern glare. “Richard or Last Breath. None of this mix-and-match crap, Cain. Save that for our enemies.”
Cain continued glaring at Richard over my shoulder. Finally, he turned to me with an ingratiating smile. “I’m just trying to teach him about brotherly love,” he said innocently. “I guess I can meet you in the middle, Dick.”
“Whatever you say, Abel,” Richard said through his teeth.
Cain and Richard both lunged at the same time, but I had been waiting for it. I swept Cain’s legs out from under him so hard that he landed flat on his back, knocking the air from his lungs. I spun and struck Richard three times in a rapid, calculated series, targeting specific points across his torso like Roland had long ago taught me. He grunted with each strike, his eyes shooting wide open at the second blow, and then my third strike locked his body into a rigid paralysis. Unbalanced and unable to move, he toppled over like a falling tree, unable to use his arms, or anything else, to break his fall.
Which was just awful.
Cats didn’t always land on their feet. Sometimes they landed on their face.
Specifically, Richard landed on his nose with a sickening crunch. Phix’s purr was like a tiny diesel engine now, so obvious she may as well have been clapping. “Oh, yes. Let’s take them with us for their propensity to provide endless entertainment.”
Cain was staring at Richard from about a foot away, struggling to catch his breath. He managed to painstakingly reach out his hand to flick Richard in the nose. “Bad kitty—Gah!—” he gasped as I used my magic to yank him back to his feet. I redirected that magic to instantly grasp his finger and bend it backwards at a ninety-degree angle, tight enough to strain his ligaments and tendons. Cain gritted his teeth, hopping desperately as I tugged him left to right, not letting him find a comfortable posture.
“Are you two quite finished?” I asked. Cain nodded eagerly. Richard jerked his eyes up and down—the only part of his body he was able to move.
“Say sorry to Dick—Richard,” I corrected myself too late, and Cain let out a big old grin despite his pain.
“Sorry, Dick. Won’t happen again, Dick. Just a little brotherly love, Dick.”
I rolled my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Cain…” I warned in my best mom voice.
Solomon was watching us with both awe and amusement, unsure which of the two reactions to settle on. Then again, he had been cooped up in his house for the better part of a millennia or two and was very likely severely lacking entertainment or social interaction. It didn’t matter how fancy his digs were, his life had awkward parallels to Howard Hughes, milk jugs and all.
I finally released Cain and pointed at Richard. “Help him up. Say even one rude comment and I’ll allow Richard to give you a free, undefended, full-armed slap to the face, even if I have to hold you down myself.”
Cain’s mouth snapped closed and he blinked a few times, weighing the punishment with the satisfaction of the crime. Richard was a big guy—even when he wasn’t in his lion form—so Cain didn’t think too long on it. He helped him up.
“Hold him upright for a second,” I said, walking up and striking Richard three more times to unlock the pressure points I had frozen across his body. He let out a relieved gasp and immediately shoved Cain back.
Then he began patting his chest where I had hit him, looking incredulous.
“What was that?” he finally asked, meeting my eyes.
Instead of answering, I furrowed my brows, folding my arms. “Listen up, you two. You might both be family, and we might all fight like family, but for this trip I’m playing mommy. You guys may be badass warriors and hold the equivalent of black belts in forms of martial arts the world no longer even remembers,” I said, complimenting their prowess in battle. Then I stepped forward, my face growing harder. “But no black belt is higher than the mom belt.”
There was a tense silence and then the two of them grinned from ear to ear. In unison, they nodded. Then they shot each other dark looks as if it was the other’s fault they had nodded at the same time.
I sighed, shaking my head. “We have enough to worry about without you two getting in pissing matches every two minutes. If either of you annoys me with your brotherly love, I’m granting the less-guilty party the right to give the other a full-bodied, unobstructed slap to the face.”
Then I turned away, satisfied by their shocked silence. Not only would this hopefully keep them in line, but it worked on multiple levels. They would keep pestering each other and feel each other out—kind of like tough love in the military. But also, whenever a punishment slap was administered, it would be humiliating. That alone—their pride—should keep them in line for the most part.
Solomon and Phix met my eyes. Phix was silent, but Solomon was chuckling openly. “Well done, Callie.”
“Thanks. Despite how amazing all this is,” I said, gesturing at the Temple around us, “I think I need to figure out what’s going on in Kansas City as soon as possible. I’d love nothing more than to explore this place and pick your brain over about a million things, but I need to make sure my friends are okay.”
Feathers and Fire Series Box Set 2 Page 54
