Anghellic: Feathers and Fire Book 8

by Shayne Silvers

  I nodded, squeezing her arm gently. “I’m sorry, Lilith,” I said sympathetically. A thought came to mind. “How long were you able to stay in the Neverwas this morning?”

  “Same as usual. It’s usually less than a minute before I feel my Gateway slipping and my soul being drained.” I nodded thoughtfully. In my mind was a question, but I didn’t want to get her hopes up.

  What if she simply hadn’t waited around long enough for them to answer her call?

  Hopefully, that’s what Pride and Michael and Sanguina would help me with. Buy me those crucial extra minutes. “Were you telling Wrath the truth when you said that your Daemons chose to go to Purgatory?”

  She nodded, sobbing. “They made me,” she whispered. “They wanted to save their brothers.” I felt my heart break to hear that my suspicion had been correct. That they’d opted to go to Purgatory, knowing it would buy their brothers’ freedom, since Wrath would no longer have reason to get his hands on them.

  I reached out and lifted Lilith’s chin. She stared at me, her eyes red-rimmed, and in that moment, she didn’t look much like a demon. She looked like a scared young woman. “What are their names?” I asked softly. “Because I’m going to be shouting them as loud as I possibly can, and as long as I possibly can, until they hear me, Lilith.”

  She nodded happily, her lip trembling. “Use their nicknames. They used to hate me butchering their real names, so forced me to stop. If they hear those pet names, they’ll know I sent you.”

  I smiled. “Okay.”

  “The Vermillion Bird is Zoe, and the White Tiger is Bai.”

  I arched an eyebrow judgmentally. “You must have truly fucked up their names if they reduced you to the use of one syllable.” She laughed, nodding guiltily. “All right. Zoe and Bai. That’s easy. Once I find them, you’ll have your first two bridesmaids.” She gasped, looking as if the thought hadn’t occurred to her. I grinned. “Three, if you ask me.”

  Her excited, happy smile abruptly froze and died, and that’s when I knew I had overstepped. She began dry-washing her hands, shooting nervous glances at Samael. “I-I…”

  I held up my hands, embarrassed by my faux pas. “No problem. That wasn’t my place.”

  Samael cleared his throat. “Well. She would love you to, but she can’t ask.”

  I arched an eyebrow, not sure I wanted to continue the conversation. “This is why I hate weddings. I don’t understand any of the rules. Except for the I do part. That one is fairly straightforward.”

  Samael took a deep breath. “You can’t be in her bridal party, because…I need a best man,” he said hurriedly, projecting the words onto my face like an assault.

  My eyebrows almost climbed off of my forehead. I bit back a smile. “I’m…well, I don’t know how to tell you this, godfather, but I’m missing the necessary tools. I thought that was apparent, since I’m your goddaughter—not your godson.”

  He scowled. “You’re Dracula. I dare anyone to tell you what you can or can’t do. And everyone else I know is an asshole. Plus, who wouldn’t want Dracula as their best man? You kidding me?” he asked, grinning excitedly—which looked hideously painful on his currently battered face.

  “What about Xuanwu or Qinglong?” I asked, trying to think of any other excuse.

  He shook his head and stepped forward to poke me in the chest with a finger. “A best man needs balls, and you’ve shown more balls in the last few hours than I’ve seen other men show in a lifetime.”

  “Thank you?” I asked, not entirely appreciating the compliment. Lilith had her hands clasped together in front of her face as if praying, and she was nodding encouragingly. I let out a defeated sigh. “Fine. I’ll be your best man, but only if you two put it in writing that I don’t have to help plan the wedding—at all.”

  Lilith beamed, nodding even as she squealed with happiness.

  Samael hooted excitedly. “Now you have to survive or you’ll ruin our wedding!”

  My smile slipped. “Wow. That…is impressively manipulative, even for you.”

  “Grow a pair!” he jeered, grinning from ear-to-ear.

  I sighed, shaking my head, and throwing my hands in the air in surrender. “I’m going to bed. Keep an eye on the castle while I’m gone. Remember, if anyone asks, I’m around the Keep somewhere and I don’t plan on leaving until late tomorrow morning. Annoy the hell out of everyone with your love and excitement to keep them distracted.”

  Samael was nodding seriously, staying his eagerness for the moment. “Good luck, Callie,” he said, wrapping his arms around Lilith in a reverse hug. “Rescue her girls. Consider this a trial run for your right to carry our rings on the big day.”

  I nodded. “I will,” I said, waving one last time before I turned around. That last comment had reminded me of the strange rings from my mother’s laboratory. And as I left the Feast Hall, I was tapping the pocket that held them, thinking dark-wizardly thoughts. What had my mother been trying to tell me, and why had they responded to Michael and Pride?

  47

  On my way to my rooms, I decided to swing by the private dining hall for the castle workers. They had a servants’ lounge that was adjacent to the kitchens, and I was famished. Perhaps I could pick up an apple or something to snack on. And it would give me a chance to check up on my suspects from the hallway earlier.

  When I entered the room, it was a hell of a lot busier than I had anticipated. There were about a dozen maids and valets seated at two long tables, and they were all huddled over their plates, chowing down in soft conversation. I spotted every single one of the maids and valets from my list, but I kept my face blank, never settling on one longer than any other so as not to arouse their suspicion that I might be on to them. They almost immediately leapt to their feet in stumbling bows and curtsies, averting their eyes and apologizing for…things. They all spoke at once, so I had no idea what any one person confessed to, and I didn’t actually care about whatever mistake they thought they had made. Or maybe they’d been apologizing for eating some damned food. Christ.

  The Harkers must have been unbelievably cruel.

  I waved a hand, reassuringly. “Relax, guys. I just wanted to make sure everything is running smoothly. I’ve been away for some time and didn’t want you to think you’re not appreciated.”

  They murmured meekly, reassuring me that all was well.

  “Good.” I hesitated. “I’m…embarrassed to ask, but do you guys have any food?” I asked, smirking. Several heads peeked out from the adjoining kitchen and their faces paled with fear before they ducked back out of sight.

  One woman, older than the rest, strode out of the kitchen, looking as if she was on the verge of chastising everyone for standing around rather than eating the food she’d made them. She was about my height, with strong shoulders, pale hair, and light eyes.

  Then she noticed me and she froze with a gasp, dropping her wooden spoon. She straightened her apron self-consciously and curtsied. “Master Dracula! Has one of my staff caused you any trouble?” she asked in a tone that promised physical violence to any offenders. She was obviously in charge, and I recalled seeing her around the Keep a few times in my brief tenure.

  I shook my head. “Of course not. I just came by to thank everyone. I’m afraid we haven’t officially met,” I said. “I’ve been a little distracted lately. My name is Callie Penrose.”

  She blushed even further, averting her eyes. “I am Constance, Master Dracula,” she said, curtsying again.

  I froze, my knees buckling as I stared at her with my mouth hanging open.

  She began nervously fidgeting with her apron, and I heard a collective murmur of concern. “Master Dracula?” Constance asked, looking terrified. “Are you well?”

  I nodded stiffly. “Y-yes. I…I must be hungrier than I thought,” I stammered, studying her.

  She had pale hair just like mine, and she could have passed for my mother if I applied twenty-something years to my mental vison of her. But…of course she wasn’t my mot
her. That was ridiculous. My mother hadn’t been the only woman named Constance, and this woman would be acting very differently if she were meeting her long-lost daughter. My mother was dead. It was just a name.

  …right?

  I felt all the eyes in the room on me, so I took a calming breath. “Could you have something brought to my rooms, Constance?” I asked, trying not to stumble over the name. “Nothing fancy. Just meat, cheese, and crackers. Maybe a salad or some fruit, if you have any.”

  Constance bobbed again. “Of course, Master Dracula.” I nodded as the beginning of an idea came to mind. This could actually turn out very, very well…

  “Please send one of the valets,” I said, as if at an afterthought. “I have some furniture that needs moving, and I believe it is spelled against magic or I would do it myself.” I glanced around the room at the ten men. “Any of you with a decent pair of arms or legs will suffice,” I said, turning back to Constance. “Oh, and have him bring fresh towels, please,” I added. “I fancy a long soak.”

  “I will see to it myself, Master Dracula,” Constance promised. “I am quite strong,” she said with a bold smile. “I can wash your back and do your hair before you retire for the evening.”

  “No!” I said, louder than I’d intended. She flinched at my tone, licking her lips nervously. “Thank you, but no. I prefer you to stay in the kitchens where you belong. Just because you can do something does not mean you should,” I said, managing a warm smile. “A general does not take the field of battle, and the House Mistress,” I said, making up a title on the spot, “manages her staff, not the day-to-day duties. That invites chaos.”

  “It’s no trouble, Master Dracula,” she said, desperately, looking as if she was facing the guillotine.

  I walked up to her and grasped her hand in mine, squeezing it reassuringly. “Constance?”

  “Y-yes, Master Dracula,” she stammered, sweat popping out on her brow.

  “If you insist on bringing me dinner yourself, you’re going to have to bring it to the guard post.” She cocked her head, looking confused. “Because I will stand guard all night with the lowliest soldier. Which means I will not get my long soak in the tub.”

  She gasped, affronted at the very concept. “No, Master Dracula. What would people say?” she hissed.

  I smirked. “Exactly, Constance. What would people say to see Dracula guarding the gate or the House Mistress delivering towels? We all have our duties. Mine is to lead and protect the people of this castle. Yours is to manage those who keep everyone fed, clothed, and cared for. Let’s each focus on our strengths, shall we?”

  She nodded, thoughtfully. “Yes, Master Dracula.”

  I curtsied to her—just as low as she had curtsied to me—even though Aphrodite’s clothes consisted of pants and jacket. She blanched, making me smile wider. “Thank you for your hard work, Constance. I would entertain the concept of picking a personal attendant for such matters regarding clothes and hair,” I admitted. “I have never considered the thought until you mentioned it. Perhaps we can discuss it in the near future.”

  “Of course, Master Dracula,” Constance agreed, happily. “We have several girls who would be perfect for the role.

  I turned to every other bug-eyed face with a warm smile plastered on my cheeks as I wondered which one of them might possibly be Envy or a mole working for the archdemon.

  “And thank you all for taking care of the rest of my people. Don’t hesitate to let Constance know if you need anything from me. You will not be reprimanded for voicing your opinions or offering suggestions for improvements around the Keep. I encourage it, in fact.” And then I curtsied to them, too, making everyone about as uncomfortable as possible.

  I turned to leave.

  “Master Dracula?” Constance asked, sounding as if she’d been goosed.

  I turned back around. “Yes, Constance?” I asked, trying not to flinch at the name.

  “You are not anything like the Harkers,” she whispered, lowering her eyes.

  I nodded. “That is because I killed them, Constance.” There was a sharp intake of breath from everyone in the room. And another when I allowed myself to smile. “I killed the Harkers because they were cruel. Castle Dracula is a very different place than it once was. I will expect much from you, but you can expect appreciation and respect in return. From me and the other residents of the Keep. I expect to be informed if that courtesy is ever abused or neglected. I will personally correct the offense and you will receive an apology and compensation. We are all in this together, after all. We keep you safe, you keep us healthy and strong. Deal?”

  Constance stared at me, her mouth hanging open. Then she started, realizing she hadn’t answered. “Of course, Master Dracula. Of course. A gentleman will be right up with your supper and towels, and to assist you with the furniture. In your rooms, not at the guard post,” she added, emphasizing the difference in a stern, no-nonsense, motherly tone.

  I grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

  I left the kitchens, wondering how much water I would have to splash around to get Envy’s attention. Because this next plan was already making me blush.

  It was going to be much harder than challenging an archangel to a fight or breaking a bottle of wine over an archdemon’s head.

  48

  I stood in the sitting room of my master suite—which consisted of four different rooms, technically. Mina and Jonathan Harker had spared no expense on clothes, jewelry, and shoes. Claire had boxed up all of his things, but Mina’s clothes had remained in case any of it fit me. Claire was hoping none of them did so that she could swoop in for the kill and haul everything to her own rooms. In her short residency, Claire had also managed acquire the keys to the locked suites of the other three Brides of Dracula—the Weird Sisters Xylo and I had killed. She had raided those rooms of all dresses, jewelry, or anything even somewhat shiny, and then brought it all over to my rooms—without warning—so that I could help her pick over the remains. Like vultures over fresh carcasses.

  The bathroom was larger than any bedroom I’d ever had. In fact, it was larger than my old apartment. The closet and adjoining dressing room were the same, and it was currently a mess of boxes from Claire’s kleptomania. The number of extravagant dresses, shoes, coats, and accessories from the four women was mind boggling. But in that collection, I had found exactly what I needed for my next battle.

  An alarmingly short, red silk robe that had definitely not been designed for warmth. It had been designed for unveiling, and it would have made Aphrodite grin. Because I didn’t have any furniture that needed moving. I had wanted to divide the suspects between men and women, so had decided to focus on the most likely suspect—the valets. If Envy was a servant in disguise, I doubted he would try to pass for a woman. Then again, he would have to be in disguise because angels and demons were hauntingly beautiful and would have been spotted a mile away.

  So…the sex of the spy might not matter at all.

  But one thing I knew for sure. Master Dracula had asked for personal help, and if Envy or one of his minions wanted actionable information on whatever I had planned with Claire tomorrow, it was more than likely the servant coming up to my rooms right now would be my guy.

  And I knew how to make men uncomfortable. Little bit of skin, little bit of privacy, and a special something that might appeal to Envy, personally.

  The giant claw-foot tub was still filling up with hot water, so I was standing before the massive mirror in the sitting room, sorting through boxes and ornate chests of extravagant jewelry that would have only belonged to literal royalty on Earth. There had to be millions of dollars’ worth of precious metals and gems spread out across the vanity. Earrings, necklaces, pendants, brooches, rings, bracelets, anklets, and everything between.

  Priceless treasure. For the demon who coveted anything of value, it was a buffet table.

  I hefted a thick necklace of white gold that was wider than my finger. A deep blue sapphire as large as a robin’s egg was f
itted into the thick pendant and surrounded by diamonds—some of them as large as my fingernail. I lifted it up to my neck and smiled at the display of it nestled in my cleavage, contrasting with the blood-red silk. It matched the elaborate diamond studs in my ears.

  There was a polite knock at the door. I took a calming breath to gather my resolve, telling myself that I wasn’t to be judged by this wonton act. If Aphrodite could be a harlot to be a hero, I could wear a cute robe to make a valet squirm. I had knives tucked into a garter I’d found in the closet, and my magic was always readily available for a quick escape if I crossed the line and found Envy himself behind the door.

  “Come in!” I called out as I reached up behind my head to clasp the necklace on. The door opened and I stepped back from the mirror, pirouetting on my toes as I inspected myself in the mirror, checking every angle.

  Jewelry like this would make any girl look sexier. The robe was almost overkill.

  There was a shocked gasp from the door and I turned to face the young man staring at me in stunned disbelief. It was the tall, well-built valet with long blond hair that I’d startled earlier today—the one who’d almost broken the vase when I said hello. He’d also been in the hall when I’d started my rumor with Claire. Was that a coincidence, or had my hastily thrown together fishing net actually netted me the mole? Or…Envy himself. Wrath had blatantly said Envy was here in Castle Dracula, and that his brother always loved the finer things in life. Even if this valet wasn’t him, he would report to his boss about my collection.

  The man’s face was the color of some of the rubies on the table to see Master Dracula so indecent and looking directly at him. I smiled invitingly. “What do you think?” I asked, gesturing vaguely at my necklace, in a manner that only served to emphasize everything else on display for the young man. I had to fight not to blush myself, but I knew he would only take my reddened cheeks as an altogether different kind of reaction.

  He stammered awkwardly, sounding as if he was choking as he tried not to gawk at my current state of dress while still obeying my command to comment on the jewelry. I could practically read the thoughts racing across the surface of his brain. Maybe I hadn’t meant the jewelry at all. Was he supposed to comment on my body, my jewelry, make a romantic gesture, or run away screaming?