My celestial power washed over him on a molecular level, and he froze as if turned to stone, his magic useless against such an unstoppable, alien force.
In addition to the paralyzing effect of my Resting Bitch Face, he had also just witnessed me bat aside an angel without effort. I snarled at him and then hopped into the car, slapping Cain on the shoulder. “Drive!” I hissed.
Cain grumbled something vaguely affirmative and gave it some gas. I flew halfway into the front seat, not realizing he’d put it in reverse. I heard a crunch and a pained groan from outside the broken window before Cain slammed on the brakes so abruptly that it sent me toppling back into my seat. I glanced out the window to see that Cain had run over Eae’s wing.
“Jesus!” Alucard cursed. “Take the wheel!” he snapped pointing at Cain’s hands. They were gripping the windshield wiper and turn signal arm like he thought it was a dirt bike.
Cain, for his part, stared at the steering wheel, looking more baffled at why the car had gone backwards.
Alucard shifted the car into drive with another curse and Cain shifted his hands to the steering wheel before giving it gas again…
Without turning the wheel.
Of course, this caused us to run over Eae’s wing again, eliciting another sharp groan and crunching sound.
Cain jerked the wheel hard, swerving us onto a side dirt road rather than choosing to drive past the Shepherd scout. I just hoped this road didn’t lead to a dead end.
I also hoped the Shepherds would be too busy checking on Eae and keeping the furious polar bear restrained to pursue us.
“You okay, boys?” I asked, glancing behind us to make sure we were safe.
“I’m ready to party,” Cain murmured dazedly, running over a stump and making me hit my head on the ceiling of the tiny car.
“Wooo,” Alucard cheered pathetically, right as Cain swerved the car to avoid some obstacle his raptor-like focus had caught in the dirt road, the motion causing Alucard’s head to strike the window hard enough to make me wince. Given Cain’s groggy state, I gave it even odds that we had been in danger of actually hitting anything. Alucard groaned, clutching his head with his left hand and gripping the oh shit bar above the door in the other.
I sighed. “It’s all going according to plan,” I muttered, glancing at the clock on the dash. “Do we have time to run an errand before we go to the party?”
Cain nodded, putting about 110% of his attention into gripping the steering wheel with both hands.
“Good. Let’s drop Alucard off near the church. Then I’ll tell you where to go.”
“Can we get some Tylenol first?” they asked in stereo.
I sighed. “Sure.”
Chapter 46
We pulled into the circular drive outside Dorian Gray‘s mansion and I waited for the limo driver to get out and open my door. I gave him a pointed sniff, refusing to meet his eyes—to let him know I wasn’t pleased at how long it had taken him to do his job. I accepted his hand, begrudgingly, and climbed out of the vehicle, sweeping an elitist look over the mansion and the steps leading up to it, as well as the exotic cars idling in a line or parked off to the side, all with drivers seated behind the wheels, subserviently waiting for their masters to summon them.
Perhaps even their Masters…
Cain had called Dorian and simply asked if anything interesting was happening tonight. Dorian had arranged for a limo and driver without even asking if Cain needed a ride. He’d only asked where Cain wanted to be picked up—seeming eager to see his friend, but not wanting to ask anything directly over the phone.
Cain had been right. Everyone knew he’d been one of the last to see Callie Penrose alive, and he had indeed been given the VIP treatment for this party.
Cain hadn’t mentioned anything about his plus one, so everyone was in for one…hell of a surprise. As I waited for Cain to get out of his side of the car and join me, I eyed the servants with a barely restrained sneer. The heavily muscled, scruffy men wore cowboy hats, belts with huge flashy buckles, and crocodile skin cowboy boots.
Just inside the door, tan-skinned—both sprayed and natural—curvaceous women wore elaborate, feathered headdresses, tasseled leather riding chaps that covered only the sides of their long legs, and moccasins.
Welcome to the Wild West.
I waited impatiently as Cain walked up beside me. He wore dark slacks, a loosely buttoned white dress shirt and boat shoes—like he’d just stepped off his yacht. Except for the white leather collar around his neck that we’d picked up at Wal-Mart, he looked like a man in charge of himself and those around him. His face was blank as he handed me the end of the attached, matching leash we’d also bought, and I flashed him a dazzling smile, patting him on the head. “Good boy,” I cooed.
Then I made my way up the steps, tugging the leash gently for him to follow.
I strode up the stairs, not making eye contact or even acknowledging the offered drinks. I clucked my tongue for Cain to follow me into the living area where sounds of merriment and vice danced through the air like vultures circling a fresh battlefield.
Dozens of people—some dressed in similarly themed outfits as the servants at the door—filled the room, clutching stemmed glasses and cigarettes, chatting amicably or dancing wildly to club music that poured out from a side hallway. Conversation in the room dimmed noticeably upon my entrance and I scanned the crowd distastefully, not making eye contact with any of them.
I almost flinched in surprise to find Starlight across the room. He wore the largest and most outlandish feathered headdress—like those reserved only for a chief or shaman—I had ever seen, with red and black-tipped feathers as long as my forearm. The headpiece trailed all the way to the ground, resting on either side of him so that it resembled a feathered, hooded robe.
He hadn’t noticed my arrival, thankfully. He was seated on a brightly colored Persian rug with long tasseled knots on either end, about two feet wide by three feet long, and he was shaking the corner like one would a set of reins on a horse, muttering under his breath.
Several partygoers were gathered around him, standing on their feet and seeming to cheer him on. Then, with a sudden booming applause, he shot up into the air, nearly tumbling off the…
Damned flying carpet!
I’d seen that before, which meant the mysterious Mike Arthur was around here somewhere. I couldn’t see him through the crowd, and instead found myself staring up at Starlight hovering over the crowd. He clutched a three-foot long pipe in his hands and began puffing contentedly, blowing perfect smoke rings out over the crowd as they continued to clap and cheer. I shook my head, suddenly remembering my purpose.
I managed to peel my eyes from the bear to find one person facing me squarely, staring openly at me rather than from the corner of his eyes like most people were doing.
Dorian Gray.
He wore a tight-fitting silver suit with a crisp white dress shirt and a silver ascot, and his perfectly-messy shaggy hair brushed his shoulders. I kept my suddenly screaming hormones in check and gave him an amused nod. Then I glanced pointedly at a seating area with a leather couch and chairs, currently occupied.
Dorian dipped his chin and swiftly cleared the guests out of the way with brief touches of his finger, smoldering winks, and empty promises of later scandalous sin. The men and women left with hungry, anticipatory grins on their faces, encouraged by whatever dark desires Dorian had just suggested.
I walked over to the couch, tugging Cain’s leash, and sat down, patting the seat for Cain to join me. My white jeans and white blouse seemed to glow against the dark leather of the couch, and I crossed my legs as I set the leash on my lap and held up an empty hand in an expectant manner.
Dorian stepped aside to intercept one of his servants and plucked two glasses of a deep red wine from her tray. He handed one to me, cast a brief, thoughtful look at Cain’s battered face and leather collar, and then decided to keep the other for himself before sitting down across from me.
Cain, who already looked like a tortured raccoon from the airbags, kept his eyes downcast, but didn’t attempt to hide what looked like an impotent fury and deep inner shame.
“Pleased to meet you, Miss…” Dorian trailed off questioningly.
“You may call me Meridiana,” I said, drawing up the name from an old text on demons I’d read years ago—a succubus who had allegedly helped a certain Pope Sylvester achieve a high rank in the Catholic Church over a thousand years ago. It seemed fitting and was abstract enough to slip past all but the most devoted demonologists—if any heard me claim it as my name.
Dorian stiffened in recognition. Damn it. Dorian could loosely be described as an incubus. I forced a slow smile onto my face. “Ah, you’ve heard of me. How…delightful.”
“It’s an honor,” he said, dipping his chin politely, ever the good host. “And what brings you to my house of sin?” he asked, eyeing Cain warily.
I sniffed disdainfully. “There was, quite literally, nothing else interesting to do in this town with that child vampire locking all the exits. Nothing left to entertain me after I killed the White Rose. My new dog mentioned your penchant for depravity. I figured I may as well have a drink before I die of boredom.” I sipped at my wine, grimacing in disapproval.
Dorian’s lips set into a thin line, but he kept all other emotion from his face. “You…killed the White Rose?” he asked neutrally. He made a good show of it, but I saw his fist clench at his side, and his eyes darted to Cain and his leash again.
I shrugged. “Someone had to pluck that flower. My brother and sister failed, so I decided to give it a go. Honestly, I don’t see what all the fuss was about.”
The revelers within earshot had grown uncomfortably silent. Dorian sipped at his drink, his hand shaking ever so slightly. “Thank you for honoring me with your presence. Perhaps you will find entertainment within these walls. All manner of…enjoyment is available.” As if on cue, a male and female servant drifted up beside me, sitting on the arms of the couch. The two began kissing each other, their hands questing unashamedly across hot, flushed flesh, and within seconds, moans and gasps bubbled up from their throats as their passion grew more frantic and desperate.
I calmly and coldly elbowed the man in the ribs hard enough to make him yelp and tumble from the couch, falling on top of the woman in a tangled, painful, completely unerotic sprawl. I took another sip of my wine as if nothing significant had happened.
“They were too willing,” I murmured, by way of explanation. “Takes all the fun out of it.” I gave Cain’s leash a quick tug, jerking his head. “Right, my sweet?”
“Yes, Mistress,” he rasped, keeping his eyes down.
“Good boy,” I purred, patting his thigh. I turned back to Dorian. “The White Rose wasn’t a total disappointment, as you can see. I got a dog after all.” I let out a lilting laugh as if a thought had just come to me. “I’ve practically gone domestic!”
Dorian licked his lips. “I feel I should warn you that the White Rose had allies who might not take kindly to your news,” he said very carefully. “Or your acquisitions,” he added, obviously implying my treatment of Cain. I was mildly impressed to hear the undertone of a threat—that he didn’t take kindly to my treatment of Cain. I knew Dorian was a lot more dangerous than he let on, but to stand up to a demon—one who so casually admitted to killing the infamous White Rose and who currently held Cain on a leash?
That was ballsy. And loyal. I sensed no flash of heat on my scalp, and saw no recognition in his eyes, though, so he still didn’t see who I really was. I couldn’t risk him seeing Callie.
I snorted unconcernedly, deciding I needed to crank up the demon factor. “Well. Whatever shall I do?” I said, feigning fear. I let a vicious smile creep back over my face and belted out an amused laugh before guzzling down my wine. After a few moments of nearly complete silence—the only sound was me tapping my fingernail against the stem of my glass—I turned back to Dorian, a curious look on my face. “That vampire preacher isn’t still upset about his precious flower, is he? Is that who you were implying?”
Dorian nodded, pursing his lips. “He’s quite upset, as a matter of fact.”
I tapped my lips thoughtfully. “Hmmm. Perhaps he would open the doors to Kansas City if I gifted him her head. Something to remember her by. Like a cut flower.”
I laughed sadistically, loudly, slapping my knee.
A stark contrast to the stunned silence around me.
Chapter 47
I saw Dorian’s jaw clench almost imperceptibly. “I…am not sure how wise that would be. Can you not leave Kansas City on your own?” he asked, frowning.
I narrowed my eyes in irritation. “Not without opening a doorway to Hell, and I would rather not invite old associates of mine to my new home. It’s such a nuisance getting wrapped up in their schemes. I’ve never been a fan of politics. I’m more of a field agent, you see.” I paused, thinking. “I’ve also never been a fan of sharing my things. I worked very hard to get here, and not all demons work in concert. We all have our own motivations and goals. Kansas City would be torn apart between our interests.”
“I see.”
I let out an impatient sigh. “How about this. Anyone who has…questions,” I enunciated sarcastically, indicating I really meant grievances, “over this plucked flower, is more than welcome to meet me at church tomorrow night. I hear the moon will be a sight to behold—the perfect backdrop for an informal wake outside that ramshackle church the vampire so bravely hides in.” I began clapping my hands delightedly. “Oh, yes. That is a splendid idea.”
On cue—even though no one else knew it was orchestrated—Cain let out a low growl.
I yanked the chain hard enough to send him crashing to the floor at my feet. I swiftly lifted my foot and kicked him in the ribs, my heel sinking a few inches into his flesh. “Quiet, dog. She is no longer your bitch to mourn. You are mine, unless you need further reminders…” I said, leaning down. I dipped my finger into his wound and plopped it into my mouth with what I hoped sounded like a sexual purr.
Cain blanched, shaking his head. “No, mistress. Apologies, mistress.”
“Good.” I saw the incredulous look on Dorian’s face—as if he had never seen Cain before.
A man standing a few feet away suddenly shrieked, staring down in horror at Cain’s bloody puncture wound. He lifted those terrified eyes to mine and let out another shriek.
Then he was running. Directly toward the easiest path to escape—the huge glass window that took up almost the entire wall to display the front gardens. He leapt at it with a desperation that proved his full commitment to risk bodily harm rather than spend one more moment in my presence. He struck the window with his face, breaking his nose, and bounced backwards to land on a side table inside the living room, shattering it before crashing down to the ground with a whimper. He squealed like a stuck pig as he rolled back and forth, clutching his gushing nose and getting blood all over Dorian’s rug.
“Wow,” I said bluntly. “He hit that really hard. How did it not break?”
Dorian shrugged. “It probably hurt a lot worse than it looked. Although not bulletproof, that glass is old and thick.”
Starlight piped up, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke from his magic flying carpet. “Wait for it,” he said, almost feverishly as he stared at the window.
Everyone stood transfixed, watching the young man roll back and forth, still clutching his face and screaming in agony. One of his arms was also bent crooked, but no one offered to help him. A few seconds later, I opened my mouth to speak and—
The glass shattered, crashing to the floor in a deafening sound, covering—and likely slicing into—the injured young man.
“There it is,” Starlight said, nodding satisfactorily.
Dorian sighed, snapping his fingers impatiently. Two cowboys scooped up the bleeding, broken man and carted him out of the room.
I shook my head in disbelief and finally turned back to Dorian,
trying to remember what we’d been talking about. He looked nonplussed, as if this sort of thing happened often. He glanced at Cain, reminding me.
I nodded, allowing myself a prideful smile. “Cain was there when I beheaded the bitch. Got uppity with me. But I needed someone to carry my things, so I showed him mercy. My Father was always trying to teach me about mercy, but I never truly understood it until I found this specimen.” I kicked him in the side again and he fell over with a cracked rib, his side still bleeding. He hurriedly assumed a kneeling position on all fours. I sniffed disdainfully and then propped my feet onto his bleeding back.
I turned back to Dorian. “Anyway, spread the word, Mr. Gray. I’m sure there are more than a few who would like to ask me questions.” I leaned forward, licking my lips—which still had Cain’s blood on them—as I whispered secretly, “And I am so bored right now that I honestly don’t know whether or not I am peeing.” I leaned back with a shrug, glancing down at my jeans and letting out a sigh of relief. “Let the peasants come with their…grievances. I could use a few more henchmen,” I said, allowing my eyes to settle upon Cain. “I already took her dog, but I hear she had a cat as well…” I said, my eyes lighting up.
Dorian nodded slowly. “The Sphinx…I haven’t seen her lately, but she has been prowling the streets for answers about the White Rose.”
“Pity,” I said. “Well, if the cat is too scared to come tomorrow, perhaps there will be others with…pointed questions. I welcome anyone and everyone.”
“Why did you do it?”
I glanced back, smiling. “Because I could.” Then I scanned the room. “I hear the pastor has found something I may be interested in. I love trinkets. Perhaps I’ll take it off his hands at church tomorrow.”
Dorian paled, but didn’t offer any hints at what Roland might be after. “And if he doesn’t want to part with his possessions?”
I waved a hand. “Anyone who disagrees can meet me outside the church tomorrow night.” My eyes swept the room, refusing to make eye contact with Starlight, who was studying me with a pensive frown, still hovering above the crowd. I clucked my tongue in what I hoped portrayed boredom. “Come along now, Cain.” I climbed to my feet and flung my glass carelessly up at the second-floor balcony without looking. It flew towards a very particular painting on the upper level. I noticed Dorian’s shoulders stiffen almost imperceptibly. My gaze might have rested on his for longer than a heartbeat before I was leading Cain out of the room and back towards the entrance. Still, I felt no flash of heat on my scalp. He hadn’t recognized me.
Feathers and Fire Series Box Set 2 Page 82
