by Tes Hilaire
“Special abilities,” he repeated, his blood chilling. “What sort of special abilities?”
“The kind that makes you seem normal.”
Mike frowned. Him normal? If the beast that rode him, the one that could devour six men in less than six minutes, could be considered normal, then these Paladin must be really fucked up. Either that or Katrina didn’t know what she was talking about.
Katrina must have sensed that he was skeptical because she started backpedaling really fast. “Listen, I don’t know what all they can do. I just know what I’ve been told.”
“Told by who?”
Her lips thinned, her eyes saying she was shutting down.
“Does your knowing have anything to do with whatever crap your husband is messed up with?”
She stopped short on that one, her brow winging up. “Husband?”
“Ex-husband. Sorry.” Though he wasn’t, a part of him relaxed a bit at knowing that he hadn’t actually slept with a married woman. And yeah, he hadn’t even thought of it before when it might have kept him from burying his needs and frustrations in the warmth of her inviting body, but as they’d taken that long silent care ride back to the city, the thought had slipped through his mind more than once.
“He was never my husband. And before you jump right to the one-night-stand idea the answer is no. I was simply young and stupid and desperate and he…” She choked on the last bit, the words seeming to get stuck in her throat.
“He what?”
“He offered me protection.”
Mike scowled, his fists clenching at his sides. So Mia’s father was a bastard who took advantage of young women in need by offering them something they desperately wanted, and then screwing them over anyway.
And that’s different from what you’re doing how?
It was. He wasn’t going to screw Katrina over. He would help her find Mia. Only to do that he needed to stay out of jail. Hence the tit-for-tat. First, though, he needed to see this through with one Mr. Logan Calhoun. Jessica’s memories would not settle if he didn’t at least make the attempt to find her killer. Not when it was half his fault she was dead.
I left her. I knew she was messed up emotionally and I told her to get her act together and walked away.
He shook off the guilt, pushing on. It wouldn’t do him any good right now. Later he could dwell on it. After he’d gotten ahold of Logan Calhoun and wrung a confession out of him.
They rounded a curve in the path, the stone wall of the Cloisters peeking through the naked trees before them. Katrina ground to a halt, her gaze flicking to his. “Why are we heading to the Cloisters? I thought you said you were meeting someone in the park?”
“The Cloisters are inside the park.”
“I know that. But you never said…”
“Does it matter?”
She shook her head, her blond curls hiding her face so he couldn’t read her eyes. “No. It’s just sure to be locked at this time of the day.”
“I have a feeling that won’t be a problem,” he said, clasping her elbow, and gently urging her forward. She came, though reluctantly, and he couldn’t help but wonder why. Maybe she just didn’t like old buildings. Some people didn’t. Others felt uncomfortable in places with such heavy religious overtones. He shrugged, deciding it wasn’t relevant right then. He needed to keep Katrina moving though, so he decided to do something that would achieve two purposes: keep her mind off the Cloister itself and get him more information.
“Tell me all you know about these Paladin.”
Beneath his hand, her elbow stiffened, the tension radiating throughout her whole body. “I told you I only know what I’ve been told.”
“Which is more than I know,” he pointed out, then waited. It took a good fifty yards, but he felt her forcibly relax her muscles as she gathered the courage to speak. Made him wonder what was so bad that she was resistant to telling him. He just hoped she wasn’t about to feed him some lie.
“Paladin are, well, they are all…” she trailed off, shook her head. “It’s really kind of hard to explain.”
“Just tell me what you can.”
Her steps slowed, her hazel eyes penetrating as she angled towards him. “You know how you have certain, uh, abilities.”
He nodded, though he couldn’t help but grit his teeth. The beast, and what it did last night, was not something he’d call ability, more of a handicap.
“Well I’ve been told they all have a variety of abilities. Some can read your mind, others your emotions. One can shift into shadows. One can harness the weather.”
“So, your average bunch of marvel superheroes. Nice.”
She gave him a withering look, probably due to the heavy thread of sarcasm in his voice.
“Sorry, I’ll shut up and listen.”
“One of their leaders is said to be able to draw down His light. It’s said to be so powerful he can obliterate a demon right on the spot.”
“Demons?” He choked, trying to contain his laughter. She glared at him, then shook her head, jerking her elbow away. He caught her arm, pulling her back to him, which may not have been a good idea. Her body, tucked up against his had the beast stirring. He stuffed it back down.
“I promise I’m listening.” He made a motion like a zip and a lock across his lips.
She sighed, but relented, her body shifting in closer to his as if she needed his support to go on. Nope, definitely not immune, but he was determine to ignore the zing that still zapped whenever they touched, so he concentrated on listening instead.
“That’s their purpose. To eradicate evil. They hunt the streets looking for creatures of the dark and then kill or banish them back into the fires of hell.”
And wasn’t that a cold shower. Evil and hell and what sounded like heavenly hunters. Oh yeah, he and his beast were definitely not part of that club.
Mike whistled. “Wow. I don’t know what your ex-boyfriend was trying to accomplish, but if that’s the kind of bull crap he was trying to sell you, it’s no wonder you took Mia and ran.”
Her head jerked up. She yanked her arm free, backing up a good dozen steps. The urge to follow her, grab her to him and show her that she wasn’t allowed to leave him without permission was great, but he bit the inside of his lip, forcing himself to remain still. He blew out a breath, turning his gaze toward the stone building that had grown larger as they made their way closer.
“Listen. I can’t deny that there is something…different about me. And I am not so cocky to believe I’m the only one who might be different. I’ll even buy into a vigilante group who thinks they are using their special abilities to do good by going after the bad guys. But all that crap about creatures from hell?” He shook his head. “That’s just…”
“Crazy, right?”
“Well, yeah.”
She nodded, turning to look at the Cloisters. “Okay. We can argue the finer points between believing in crazy and leaps of faith later. Right now you have a meeting to go to. And then after, you promise to help me with Mia, right?”
“That’s right, and you…”
“Never saw anything. Got it,” she said, and began marching up the path to the Cloisters.
Chapter Six
Katrina watched Mike stalk into the hall of the Fuentidueña Chapel, his gaze roaming over every alcove, every pillar, and every shadow. His assessment that the building would be open to them had been right and they’d breezed right in, though frankly, given her Mike’s talent with hotwiring, she didn’t doubt he could have gotten them in regardless of locked doors.
Crap. What was she thinking? Her Mike? Was this a facet of her succubus instincts? A resistance to sharing a “food source” with another? As callous as the thought was, she really kind of hoped so. After this was all over, if, miracles of miracles, both of them survived, she knew she didn’t dare remain in contact. It was only a matter of time before the other Paladin found Mike. Only a matter of time until he learned what she truly was. And then?
&n
bsp; She swallowed. She was already walking a fine line between giving him too much information and not enough. He was a cop, which meant his instincts were honed to a T and his ability to see through bullshit and uncover the truth was superb.
It had been stupid to have said as much as she had. She shouldn’t have volunteered all that information on the Paladin. Though to leave him completely in the dark left the risk of him freezing at an inopportune moment. Now, at least, he had an inkling of the type of creatures they would be facing. Even if he didn’t believe in them.
“He’s not in here,” Mike said, startling her as he laid a hand on her waist. And damn if that wasn’t another shiver that skated across every nerve in her body with that simple touch. Was every one of her succubus instincts planning on awakening now? Why the hell hadn’t they taken over back when she’d needed them to? Back when they might have made a difference in the outcome of the games she’d been forced to play. Or, at least, made a difference in how she’d been able to live through them.
She cleared her throat, knowing she should, but unwilling to step away from his touch. “Think we should wait?”
“Maybe. This cathedral is the most logical place.”
Was it? She wouldn’t know. The Cloisters, along with all things blatantly religious, weren’t exactly her haunting grounds. The strip club where she worked was much more apropos for her. A dirty little song, a seductive little dance, a roomful of sinners with sinful thoughts. It was enough of an emotional punch to sustain her, even if it did make her feel slimy at the end of the night. Here was too pure. Too quiet. All that silence and solitude gave her too much time to think. Though she supposed it was alluring in its own morbid kind of way.
Her gaze was drawn to the cross that was the focal point of the cathedral. The savior hung upon it, his head bowed in a kind of reverent acceptance of his fate.
“Think it was enough?” Mike asked, his fingers tightening around her waist. An image of how he’d gripped her there, anchoring her to him last night sprang to mind making her womb clench.
Not the time. Not the place, she told herself firmly. “What was enough?”
“His sacrifice, for our sins. Think it was enough?”
And all those warm fuzzy feelings immediately evaporated. She bit her lip, knowing the answer to that. Not for her sins. Not with what she was. What she’d done.
She was saved from answering by a shift in the air. His head snapped up, his nostrils flaring as if scenting it. Perhaps he was, or rather his beast was.
“Come on.” His hand slid off her waist as he spun towards the back of the hall.
His pace was quick, his focus intent. She altered between trying not to stumble as she tried to keep up, and watching him. He was definitely more in touch with his beast than he’d like to admit. Yes, there were some definite cop instincts there—the way he took a corner, the way he constantly checked both her position and their back trail—but the rest was all beast. A flare of his nostrils to take in a scent, a twist of his head to catch a sound; he seemed to rely on these senses as much or more than his training. It was probably what made him a good cop, and she didn’t doubt it was ultimately what had landed him in the predicament he’d found himself in last night.
Five minutes later she was beginning to think that he was wrong. By now they had to have covered practically all the rooms.
“Maybe he’s not here,” she suggested when he stopped once more, his head turning first one way then the other as he took in the hall the current room had dumped them out into.
“Oh he’s here. I can feel him.”
Katrina looked at him, saw that he was rubbing the back of his neck. He did that a lot. In fact, whenever she’d tapped into her succubus powers last night he’d done it. Was this another facet of the beast or was he a sensate, too?
He turned left down the hall, motioning her to follow. Less than a minute later they came to the entrance to the courtyard. He ground to a halt, his hand coming up to motion her to stop.
“You think he’s out there?” she asked, keeping her voice to a barely audible whisper. If his ears were as good as she thought they were, he would have no trouble hearing her.
“I think they passed through,” he answered quietly.
“They?”
His brow drew down, his nostrils flaring. “I’m not sure. I thought I…”
She waited, but whatever he had been about to say was lost to another ping on his senses. The muscles in his jaw rolled, his hand shifting towards the holster hidden under his jacket.
“Stay here,” he said, stepping out into the covered walkway that edged the courtyard.
Didn’t have to ask her twice.
Slipping up against the wall so she’d have some protection, she tried to get an angle where she could similarly watch his progress. Damn he looked good; his movements catlike as he slipped down the walkway, shifting from pillar to pillar. He was thorough, too, the way he used each angle to both cover himself and take in his surroundings.
“Come on, Logan. Come out, come out, wherever you are!” he called.
Katrina’s stomach dropped out, her heart palpitating. Logan. The name was ringing all sorts of bells in her brain. But Mike couldn’t mean The Logan… could he? The coincidence of that would be too damn much. If Mike had interactions with one of the Paladin before, surely they would have brought him in to their order. No way would they have allowed a human with that much power to walk the streets without training.
Unless they didn’t know what he was. Unless the beast only came out to play when it was needed.
It had no trouble playing with you last night.
Her nails dug into the stonework, unease gripping down on her like a vise, immobilizing her muscles. This wasn’t going to end well.
“Mike?” a voice called, definitely feminine.
Halfway down the walkway Mike froze so stiff Katrina felt it, and she? Well, the moment she followed his gaze to the woman at the north end of the courtyard, then past to the man standing in the shadows of the alcove, and felt the power radiating from within them both, Katrina knew that however impossible it might seem, there was no such things as coincidences. And her time had just run out.
***
Mike couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. What he saw before him must have been a deranged illusion of his sleep-deprived mind. Or perhaps, just another sign that he’d truly cracked last night and gone over the deep end.
Maybe you didn’t stop those drug thugs. Maybe they pumped you full of the contents of that vile black syringe and this is all a hallucination.
Whatever the cause, there was no way in hell what he saw now could be explained by anything less than a true forfeiture of his mental capabilities.
Despite some wishful thinking from some, Mike knew, having learned early in life, that angels did not live among them watching over their lambs. Nor, despite all the money people made off the gullible, were ghosts real. And beyond Christ’s miraculous three-day thing or the Hollywood magic of a fictionist zombie apocalypse, people did not, and would never, rise from the dead to walk the earth.
Yet there stood Jessica. As beautiful as ever. No, more. Because now she wasn’t haggard and drained. Her skin practically glowed. Her eyes were brighter, rounder, with no dark circles under them. If he didn’t know better, he’d say that they even had a slight angle to them, almost exotic, and her lips, were more defined with a distinctive angel’s kiss beneath her nose. He supposed the last two could have been accomplished by makeup and the simple fact she wasn’t currently scowling, which, in truth, had been her normal MO. But it hit home one simple truth: His mind was most definitely fucking with him.
“You’re not here.” He ran his hands down over his face. “You’re not real.”
“I am.” She took a step toward him.
He held his hand out… stopping her? Reaching? “You’re dead!”
She looked down at herself, waved her arms as if that meant anything. “I assure you, I’m not.”
“I know.”
“I buried you.”
Her eyes flickered, a slight lowering of her lids before she brought her gaze back to level with his own. “I know. I’m sorry, Mike.”
“Who are you?”
“I’m still Jessica, only now, I’m…”
“What?”
“I’m…” She shook her head, seemingly at a loss for words. Well didn’t that fucking make two of them?
“You’re what? What are you?” he all but yelled. Was this the sort of evil Katrina had been warning him about? Evil walking amongst the living? But if so, why wasn’t his beast giving a shit?
“I’m more.” She took a deep breath, flicking her hands open, fingers pointed down toward the ground. Flames shot from her palms, running up her fingers and curling the backs of her hands.
“Holy fuck. Holy shit!” He scrambled back, practically tripping over his own feet. What the hell was this? What the hell was she? He slammed into something, arms linking below his armpits.
“Easy there, buddy.”
He spun about, the arms immediately releasing him, and came face to face with a giant of a man. A red haired giant to be exact, and one he know well.
“Alexander Hastings.”
Mr. Hastings lips thinned, but he nodded. “Good to see you again, Detective.”
“Wish I could say the feeling was mutual.”
Hastings’ lips thinned, but he nodded. Mike really didn’t like turning his back on the man, but he had a feeling that wherever the red-haired giant was, his buddy—One Mr. Logan Calhoun—was sure to follow.
He spun, his eyes delving into every shadow, only it wasn’t a shadow Logan hid in now. He stood beside Jessica, his arm wrapped around her waist, his hand linked with hers, as if it had the right to fucking be there.
The sight of Jessica in the man’s arms was like a punch to the gut. Jessica’s killer was holding… holding who? Not Jessica. Couldn’t be Jessica. He’d buried Jessica. Bought flowers for her grave. Watched her parent’s grieve over her casket. Then gone back weeks later, after he’d clawed his way out of the sorrow and guilt, to put more flowers on hers and her twin sister’s grave.