Although it was a great relief to hear that Samael wouldn’t make an already complicated situation worse, I feared what he might be up to outside of Kansas City. He was my responsibility and would die by my hand—when I had the time to get around to it, which meant taking down Roland and his barrier.
I sensed Xuanwu studying me curiously—studying my Seal, specifically. I covered it with my other hand and met his eyes. For the briefest of moments, I thought I saw him studying my forehead thoughtfully, but with no pupils to his obsidian stone eyes, it was hard to tell.
Claire held up a hand like she was in school, looking impatient. Xuanwu smiled in amusement, dipping his beak at her to proceed. “Even if we found a way in, Roland has an army of vampires and werewolves, and two vampire lieutenants standing in our way.”
Xuanwu shifted his shoulders slightly, looking resigned to a difficult decision. “My ninjas follow a creed that is deeply rooted in trust and respect. They could follow Hope’s murderer,” he said softly, staring off at nothing. For a single heartbeat, I saw him murmur as if in prayer, apologizing to some higher power for his decision.
Everyone froze, staring at him. “How about you just tell them to help us?” Claire blurted out, missing the most important part of his comment. Cain hadn’t missed it, because he was staring at me with a very concerned look on his face, wondering the same thing as me. Xuanwu’s words had sent an icy shiver down my spine. He couldn’t have meant—
He refocused on us as, snapping out of whatever dark thoughts had crossed his mind. “I do not command them. They follow me out of respect that I bought with blood,” he said, gripping his sword tightly for a moment, his claws scraping at the frost encasing the hilt. “That same respect could be bought by Hope’s murderer.”
My stomach quivered unsettlingly, liking his suggestion even worse the second time.
Hope’s murderer…
If Xuanwu had meant hope as a title or Name—which it sure as hell sounded like—was he really suggesting that I murder Nate Temple, the Horseman of Hope? That was a fat no.
Xuanwu cleared his throat, his face a grim mask. “Such a person might be strong enough to destroy Roland’s barrier from within—it’s only vulnerable point, as is the case with most rituals. And they would have an army of silent assassins to keep enemies preoccupied.”
I shuddered at the confirmation of both the barrier’s weak point—something I’d already realized—as well as if he’d truly been asking me to become an assassin. But how else would one earn the respect of other assassins other than by becoming one herself? Xuanwu had bought their respect with blood. It was the only way. Even still, doing so wouldn’t get me inside the church. It would just grant me the muscle to destroy the barriers once I did find a way inside.
Claire and Cain were sharing significant looks with each other, looking deeply troubled.
They needn’t have worried. I could never kill Nate. I would just have to find another way.
I decided it was time to change the topic, turning to address Xuanwu with a calm, determined face. Let him take that as he would.
“Earlier, you made it sound like you knew we would eventually meet. That you knew about this conversation for a very long time…” I said, watching him closely. “Why did you come to Missouri, Xuanwu?” A demon I’d killed had once been very interested in Missouri—in the various flavors of power flocking to my state—both in St. Louis and Kansas City. Boston, Massachusetts had also been on his radar, but most of his interest had been devoted to Missouri.
Because of Nate Temple and me.
So why had Xuanwu chosen Kansas City over St. Louis?
He sighed wearily, waving at the air as if to imply everything. “Many events transpired to lead you to this moment. Many plans—both foiled and victorious, brought you here. To me. Now. The same can be said for each of my kind—gods—and many others. Children dance to the songs their parents sing, sleep to the lullabies their parents read, fear what their parents tell them to fear, and stand up to whom their parents tell them are evil.” His gaze grew distant, staring at something only he could see. “So many children…” he murmured, trailing off.
I frowned, my forearms pebbling with gooseflesh. “What do you mean, so many children?” Cain and Claire also looked discomforted by his words, studying each other silently.
He snapped out of his thoughts at my question but didn’t meet my eyes as he answered. “You three. Nate Temple. Quinn MacKenna…and many, many others. The black sheeps of the family always garner the most interest, the most attention, the ones who need to be watched…not just mortals, either,” he added scornfully, clenching his sword with both sets of claws. “Us gods are also children, you know. We, too, carry the burdens our parents left behind. We, too, feel obligated to honor the preparations our parents set into place.”
I scoffed. “I was abandoned on the steps of a church, Xuanwu. I wasn’t prepared for anything except pain,” I muttered. I did not whine or cry as I said it. I had simply decided to accept the simple facts of my past rather than wallow in victimhood. The Doors had taught me much. A small part of me still felt betrayed and bitter, but it was a deep, slow burn somewhere in the darkest depths of my soul, and it was hard to hear unless I dwelled on it.
“Perhaps preserved rather than prepared,” Xuanwu suggested. “Saved, even. We all die someday—parents, gods, mortals. And usually at the hands of babes with blades,” he said.
“Babes with blades are my kryptonite,” Cain grunted, as if hoping to lighten the mood. Claire hit him absentmindedly, seeming more focused on Xuanwu than in supervising Cain.
Xuanwu finally looked up at me. “We are all children, first. Even Samael, Roland, Henri, and Dracula. We are all just playing with the toys our parents gave us, growing up to shuffle our feet to a carefully choreographed dance.” I thought that was a rather dire position for a Buddhist to take, but I didn’t say anything. “A party has been planned for us, and the invitees are still arriving to play their part. Gods included,” he said, touching his own chest. “Consider this a rehearsal dinner. Where do you want to seat the guests? Beside whom? You ask, why Missouri. I say, thank you for the invitation to your debutante ball. The party is about to start, and I wouldn’t miss it for the world. It’s better than waiting aimlessly for the end.”
I pondered his words, not liking them one bit. I didn’t buy into fate. And nothing about current events reminded me of a party. It was a war. Against whom, I didn’t yet know. But every pantheon was indeed getting seated in preparation. There was no denying that. I’d heard Nate bring it up several times. The End War. The All War. He was a Catalyst for it, even though neither of us knew what that meant, exactly.
Dark clouds hung on the horizon, and Freaks were flocking to Missouri—preferring to huddle shoulder to shoulder with once enemies rather than remain in solitary hiding where they could be easily picked off or perhaps recruited. Like animals in the wild sensing a storm, the Freaks of the world sensed something coming and were instinctively drawn to certain places around the world. Why Missouri? I didn’t have the answer either. I had been hoping Xuanwu would.
“Who is hosting this party? And who intends to crash it?”
Xuanwu was silent for a very long time. “With everyone wearing masks, it is hard to tell, but those who planned the party went to a lot of effort to attract everyone…whether by flicking them on the nose, stealing something from them, binding them with an oath, or befriending them. It is important to know who your true allies are—whether each guest you encounter is actually your friend—or looking for the chance to stab you in the back. Loyalty is essential. It is why the vampires bond each other through a powerful bloodline.”
I frowned. “That tactic apparently has a few glaring loopholes,” I argued, alluding to Roland murdering Haven and turning on Dracula, his supernatural forefather.
Xuanwu nodded absently. “Although, it is better than doing nothing. Perhaps they didn’t have powerful enough blood. The right blood can both
create bonds and break bonds…”
I rubbed at my temples, feeling a headache coming on. “This party is just going to have to start without me. I haven’t picked out my dress yet. I’ll just have to show up fashionably late.” I met his eyes stubbornly. “After I kill Roland.”
The conviction in my words made my stomach flutter after the fact—only just now realizing that I truly meant it. No matter what he was up to with Dracula, he’d done things here that could not be forgiven. He had made good on his oath to Fabrizio in a way I hadn’t considered before now. He had filled the streets of Kansas City with blood—his blood—flowing in the veins of every vampire he created who bore the crimson eyes.
And it was time for that blood to nourish an unexpected surprise.
A rose growing from the concrete, whose vines would strangle and choke every vampire with crimson eyes in Kansas City.
Xuanwu nodded in respectful approval, knowing how hard it had been for me to say it out loud. “Then I will save you a seat. You should consider that maybe Roland’s actions—even if unbeknownst to him—may be part of the party’s entertainment…”
I grunted in reply.
Xuanwu exhaled loudly before climbing to his feet with the aid of his sword as a cane, chips of ice and stone again cascading down his shell and shoulders at the motion. “Perhaps information on Roland was the least vital information you learned today,” he said mysteriously.
We climbed to our feet, taking a moment to stretch out our backs before following him down the trail to his home. Cain and Claire brought up the rear, giving us some privacy. Xuanwu tried to speak softly enough for only me to hear as I stepped up beside him. “Long does it take, for a rose vine to creep, but they choke, and they crawl, they’re relentless and never sleep,” he murmured to himself, shaking his head and grinding his beak as he stared off at nothing.
Of course, we all heard it though, because he was flipping ten-feet-tall and loud as hell.
“You have much to consider if you are to find entrance to that which has no entrance. To speak loud enough for deaf ears to hear. To show the blind what you truly look like, White Rose,” he said, winking.
And I suddenly realized that he had seen me for who I was, not the dark-haired demon woman. I hadn’t even thought about that.
He reached out to flick my hair with an icy claw that was large enough to have gripped my face like a basketball. “Brunette truly does not suit you. White is a much more appropriate color.”
I stood there for a moment, stunned. But he was already ambling past us, the ground thumping beneath his feet and sword—but no divots or craters marked his passing—almost as if he stepped precisely so as not to disturb his surroundings.
Maybe Starlight had told him about my affliction. Or Xuanwu had seen through it because he was a god. So…what was Starlight’s excuse? Was he a…god? The thought of a perpetually high god made me realize, rather abruptly, that I needed to tinkle. I hurried after Xuanwu, motioning for Claire and Cain to follow.
We soon reached the garden and Xuanwu halted, staring out at the apple blossoms in the distance, inhaling deeply through his nostrils. “You are always welcome to my sanctuary if you ever need to clear your mind.”
I nodded, smiling. “It is a beautiful home. Especially without the ninjas guarding the grass.” That earned a snort of surprised laughter.
The sun was rising, and I could see faint whirls of steam rising up from Xuanwu’s carapace. He didn’t seem to mind in the slightest, so I didn’t think it was any cause for concern. In fact, he looked like it had relaxed him.
“Safe journey, White Rose. We shall meet again soon. I hope.” He hesitated before handing me a small object the size of my palm. “Bleed on that and whisper your commands when you think my men are ready to follow you, respect you, trust you. Silence will fall,” he rumbled in a meaningful tone, enunciating the key words. I closed my fist around the small cold object, nodding grimly.
When I murdered hope.
“Until then, my men will treat you much as any other faction in town.” He eyed me up and down pointedly, frowning at my hair, as if to remind me of my demon disguise. “To keep up appearances, for a demon has no allies and many enemies. Any aid given to such an unanimously despised creature would not go unnoticed, dulling a perfectly capable blade that could have been wielded at a later time in a surprise attack.”
I dipped my head in understanding. The ninjas would throw a lot of pointy things at us if we stepped out of line. Unless…I earned their respect.
Instead of dwelling on that, I ushered Cain and Claire back towards the house where we saw Yín waiting for us with a big old grin. The ninjas were conspicuously absent, and despite his smiles, Yín didn’t speak as he led us back the way we had entered.
When we reached the hallway with the pond and stepping stones, Cain quickly leaned over to peer inside the clay vase, pulling away before Yín could notice. His disappointed frown made me grin. Such a child, I thought to myself with a sense of adoration for my brother. As we exited the home, said our silent goodbyes to the guards and Yín, I had already set my mind to the task at hand, figuratively rolling up my sleeves and clenching my jaw as I walked back to our car in silence.
It was time to stir some shit up. But first, I needed a new bra.
Chapter 21
Claire was snuffling at the air, her window cracked—but even that slight amount of air seemed to disgust her. “This is a stupid risk,” she repeated for the third time.
Flip. Snap. Flip. Snap.
I squinted against the light from the morning sun, absently fondling the obsidian turtle figurine Xuanwu had given me. It was ice-cold to the touch and easily fit nestled in the palm of my hand. I pocketed it with a sigh, not wanting to think about his request.
Flip. Snap.
Roland’s church stood about fifty yards away. So close, but so far, I thought to myself. Claire was right, but I was finished with playing nice. The meeting with Xuanwu, although enlightening, had put a shot clock on the Roland problem—and raised the stakes for failure.
Flip. Snap.
The first thing I’d made abundantly clear to Cain and Claire after we left his house, was that no one was to talk to anyone—at all—about what we’d learned. We couldn’t know for certain who was already on Roland’s payroll. So the whole Dracula thing was remaining a secret.
Flip. Snap.
Claire growled audibly, gripping the steering wheel hard enough for it to make a rubbery complaint. I wanted to let off some steam, too. It had only been late last night when I killed half a dozen vampires. You would think that would be enough to sate my appetite.
Flip. Snap.
But it wasn’t. I wanted to put a stop to Roland. To make Henri Bellerose squeal in agony as I tickled his toes with razor blades for baiting Roland into the Dracula heist. He must have played off Roland’s grief at losing me, promising him that Dracula had the metaphoric Holy Grail to save me, or avenge me, or whatever Roland had needed to hear.
Flip. Snap.
Hell, maybe Dracula did have something in his collection that could do such a thing. One tiny misunderstanding—I wasn’t dead.
Flip. Snap.
“Cain, I swear to holy hell,” Claire snarled suddenly, “I will snap that thing in half and shove it up your ass if you don’t stop it right now.”
Silence.
Flip. Snap.
She spun, growling as she lunged at him in the backseat.
He dove out of her reach, swatting at her hands. “Fine!” he snapped, shoving the burner flip phone Claire had picked up for each of us into his pocket. “I’m just so bored,” he said in a toddler’s whine. Then, before we knew it, he simply hopped out of the fucking Jeep.
My heartrate tripled as I looked at Roland’s church in fear, wondering if anyone had spotted—or scented—Cain. Thankfully, nothing changed, us being too far away for anyone to really pay attention. There were only a handful of Regulars on the street, and most of them were entering
or exiting a coffee shop a few doors down. So Cain blended in easily as he slipped into a shaded alley to study the church. I slowly turned to Claire, saw her open her mouth to argue, and then I hurriedly jumped out of the Jeep, also having to swat at her hands to make my escape.
I shuffled over to Cain, ignoring his mischievous grin as I casually eyed the street. I had asked Claire to drive us here in hopes we might be able to get a lay of the land while all the vampires were sleeping.
The view of the church from the alley gave me a better angle on the property around it, so I was able to notice a lot more guards on patrol than I had seen a few minutes ago—a pair of young, shirtless men pulling weeds, a trio of girls smoking beneath a tree, and even a half dozen men and women doing jumping jacks in a row. I also spotted a pair of huge, shaggy, supposedly-napping dogs lying in the cool grass.
To Regulars, the sleeping beasts looked like huge wolfhounds, but to the supernatural community it was a giant middle finger. They didn’t care to be seen out in the open because no one dared to talk.
Because they were all werewolves. All incredibly good looking, and all dangerous as hell. There had to be at least two dozen of them spread around the perimeter of the church. I studied them anxiously, trying to see if I recognized anyone. Even from this vantage, I didn’t see anyone I recognized, but there was a stone wall around the church, concealing some of the grounds where a dozen or more werewolves could be lying in wait.
Claire finally decided to climb out of the car, muttering under her breath as she joined us. Maybe one of the two lieutenants would be bold enough to risk a little morning sun, step out for a stroll, and I could nab them, dragging them back to my apart—
I muttered a curse under my breath, reminded of my eviction notice. I turned to Claire. “If I kidnap one of them, do we have anywhere to take him?”
She shot me a smoldering glare. “First of all, we’re not going to waltz up there and kidnap anyone. We’d be torn to shreds. Second of all…yes. I’ve got a cave.”
Feathers and Fire Series Box Set 2 Page 65
