Maxwell cleared his throat. “Ah, the king. He is the most important piece, yet the most useless.” He tugged at the starched collar around his freshly shaved neck. John had observed that the too-night neckline chafed so badly that he sported red rashes. “Much like Guides.” He moved a knight toward John’s king.
John merely smiled. “Guides are not kings, though.” He moved his rook horizontally on the board. “Check.”
Sweat broke on Maxwell’s cheeks and punctured his veneer of being in control. “I am ready to leave the game,” he announced, gathering together as much of his dignity as he could find. He tipped the king over onto the board. “The king has fallen.” Maxwell quietly strode out of the parlor.
“So I see,” John murmured to the maid, knowing she pretended not to hear. “The king is dead. Long live the king.”
Let the word spread in the household. The Divine waited with heart-wrenching anticipation for Its children to return.
CHAPTER 27
“This place gives me the creeps.” The baby kicked Valerie in the kidney. “Just grab John-Dad and get out of here.”
“Cut it out, kid,” Valerie said the same moment Lance instructed the child, “Stop beating up your mother.”
Valerie shrugged off the baby’s blow. The three of them had taken refuge in an empty townhome across from the residence. All the shops in the city were fully stocked with everything from clothing to books to food though there wasn’t a living soul in the city. As a result, both Lance and Valerie wore the latest men’s fashions of the late 1890s.
Lucifer’s ear hair, it felt good to be a man again.
“We can’t just rush in there like half-assed raw recruits. We have at least five, perhaps six additional Fallen Angels, each with their own power set. One … woman with the power to disturb the very nature of space and time. We have no idea what they have done with John.” She focused her opera glasses on an open window. “I have him in sight.”
Lance crossed the room and blocked Valerie’s window.
“What aren’t you telling me?” he asked.
Valerie shut her eyes. He had caught her hesitation.
Her lover leaned his forehead to hers. “Tell me. No more secrets.”
Valerie rested her hands on his shoulders. “Let me show you.”
Again, Valerie opened her mind to Lance.
The candlelight set Ilona’s tanned skin into gleaming like a low-slung moon. Vladimir touched his breastbone at the eager, breathless expression on his wife’s face.
“Come to me, my husband,” his wife crooned, holding her arms out. The linen sheets slithered down to expose milk-white breasts and already erect brown nipples.
Vlad went to her willingly.
Unfamiliar, soft skin and warm, and the lavender female scent under his lips, tongue, and fingers made his head swim. As he kissed and touched his way down her body, he came to the Devil’s Triangle. He stifled a niggling of unease at the complicated ruffles of wet skin. Instead, he merely parted the scalloped lips, and investigated as though he were becoming familiar with a new terrain.
Never in his life had Vlad touched his own skin this intimately. He had no concept of what would feel good on a woman. Ilona moaned sweetly when he stroked her with his fingers. When he touched his watering mouth to her, she clawed at his hair and screamed. Her thighs clamped tightly around his head, trapping him in hot musky heaven.
Not until the candles guttered too low for clear vision did Vlad remove his trousers and tuck between Ilona’s wet thighs.
He rubbed the blunt head of his ivory cock between her slippery lower lips. Ilona bared her teeth as he circled her now-swollen nubbin. She writhed and blindly searched for him with her hips. “Please, put that in me,” she pleaded.
Heartened by her ardor, Vlad tucked the wide head at the gate of her pussy. Despite his careful movements, she impaled herself on his thickness.
“Sweet, sweet man,” Ilona whispered as her adored husband filled her with his beloved cock.
“That was my wedding night,” Valerie whispered in Lance’s ear. “I gave her diamonds.”
“Wood smoke and lavender,” Lance whispered back.
“I cannot fail her again. She has suffered too much at my hands.”
“Radu bit her,” Lance stated.
She nodded, pressing her third eye against his. “He was always careless with his women.”
Three bites. Three unnecessary bites.
A vampire only needed to bite a person once. The blood taking was the easy part. The difficulty lay in the giving back of the Maker’s blood, sweat, and tears.
To take and not give back by the sweet embrace of Death, the sharing of pleasure, or the kiss of eternity was anathema to vampires. Without the oblivion of tears, sweat’s purity of purpose, and the intimacy of blood, a mortal mind would crumble from the burden of the bite. Both Ilona and Mina had paid too high a price for Radu’s vanity.
As always, Valerie was stuck with cleaning up Radu’s messes.
CHAPTER 28
Radu Tepes loved Istanbul more than any other city in the world. Eight million human souls and an untold number of paranormal citizens made Istanbul the true capital of the world. Even better, the city kept its streets tidy. Radu hated cleaning up after himself.
At ease in his form as a large black dog, he trotted through the tiny, winding streets of the ancient Sultanahmet district, the oldest section of all Istanbul. Ears held high, he passed the Blue Mosque and the Grand Bazaar, checking in on his charges.
Outside one of the fishing boats, he sat on his haunches and wagged his tail. A snack of fresh fish soared through the air. With an adorable woof, he grabbed it midflight.
Some of the best memories of his life were in Istanbul. His boyhood home in Romania was ruggedly beautiful, but oh-so-primitive compared to the sophisticated, cosmopolitan amenities of the city. The parties, the smooth, graceful lines of the buildings added into the sheer civilization of bathing showed him the folly of his backwoods rearing.
And the food! Radu licked his chops. Fish pulled from the Sea of Marmara, lamb from the interior, pomegranates, and spices.
Istanbul had been ancient when he arrived six hundred years ago, and like a woman, only grew more vibrant and complex with age. Why had he even bothered with the United States? The sheer amount of bustle and color dwarfed even those newer, taller cities.
Of course, as a dog, he couldn’t see color, but he could still appreciate the women. The women ranged from tiny, bossy Asian women who barely topped his dog’s head, to tall blond American women with their big breasts, to African women with their courage worn bright on their brows.
He sat himself in front of an Indian couple dining in his favorite restaurant and literally applied his puppy-dog eyes.
“That is our dapper man,” the waiter told the diners. “Never dusty, always shining. Not a flea on the boy. He showed up one night and now he rules all.”
The woman laughed and threw him a deliciously spiced hunk of chicken.
Radu gave her a dog laugh and moved down the street. He entered the main chamber of an ancient palace being excavated under the street. His months as a dog had cooled his resentment and shame, taught him contentment. The shock of his brother’s, or more accurately, sister’s, secret forced him to reconsider his dreams.
He’d become the ruler of this little world, this corner of Istanbul. Shadow Creatures were so much more forgiving of pride and secret plans. Unlike mortals, they understood how ruling could be bred into a being’s very fiber. They appreciated someone who could enforce proper rule of law. Now, his subjects were moving from the shadows to the upper levels, finding jobs, eating regular meals. The crime rate had gone down.
In addition, his subjects dressed much better. They lived in one of the most fashionable cities in the world and everyone had dressed like zombies? Not allowed on his watch. Radu fluffed his fur in satisfaction.
The high-pitched whine of a television made him cock his ears. He tuned h
is attention to the small appliance a nearby restaurateur kept over the bar.
“In breaking news, Mr. Umar Mernissi, the spokesman for the troubled Consortium for Concerned Citizens, gave this press conference today in Portland, Oregon, U.S.A.”
The picture swapped over to the international feed. Turkish subtitles scrolled along the bottom of the screen.
A perfectly put together blonde woman introduced the segment. “This is Angela Block reporting from Portland. In a stunning display of irony, Mr. Mernissi is giving his press conference here, at the Governor Hotel. Six months ago, this was where Radu Tepes, the disgraced leader of the CCC, stayed during the Twelfth Annual Paranormal Citizen’s Conference. The very place where he was exposed as a double agent for the Nazis and the mastermind behind the attempted murder of Lance Soleil, the missing former director of the Tualatin Mountain Homeless Shelter.”
Radu thumped his tail at the picture they had chosen for him. He looked particularly good in that shotl.
“And now, Mr. Umar Mernissi.”
Umar looked about the same, perhaps a little thinner, a little tired. Radu couldn’t fault the fit of his former employee’s suit, either. He must have finally taken Radu’s advice on how to dress. He shook his ears in approval.
With a flourish, Umar settled his papers onto the oak podium and gave the cameras a brief, businesslike smile.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the press,” he began, “the last time I stood here, I witnessed the devastating destruction of an organization I had helped grow to international influence. The revelation of our former leader’s secret activities saddened me not only on a personal level, but brought a violent backlash upon every paranormal citizen in the United States.”
Radu scratched his side. Whatever.
“After many months of investigation, Joe Carter, the advisory board, and myself, are both saddened and relieved to announce the dissolution of the Consortium for Concerned Citizens.
“We are proud of our many past triumphs, including being involved with the creation and passing of the Paranormal Citizens Act that granted PNCs asylum and civil rights in the United States.
“In the wake of this scandal, we can no longer function as efficiently as we once did. Even though I am supposed to have the eyes of a hawk, I failed to find the financial and ethical mismanagement of a formerly great organization. In my cooperation with Special Agent Katsumi Tanaka of the Federal Bureau of Paranormal Relations, we have found horrifying amounts of misappropriated funds and resources.
“Therefore, we will liquidate our remaining assets, pay our innocent employees, and fold the organization. It is a sad ending to a formerly great institution.”
The bartender and the restaurant owner’s discussion of the clip drowned out the commentary on the television.
Radu flicked his ear in annoyance. Dissolve his organization, would they?
CHAPTER 29
“They must be suicidal,” Valerie said as she set the case for her sniper rifle down on the rough-finished wood floor.
The building across the narrow, dirty street from across the Harker city house had all the charm and comfort of a flea-bitten hut with holes in the thatching. Dust and soot gathered on her suit. Naturally, Lance remained dry, shining, and unblemished while Valerie’s rain-drenched hair soaked her collar and spoiled her coat.
Bastard, she thought, but without any heat.
Lance crossed to the window and pushed aside the lace window. “This has to be one of Lucifer’s ideas. It’s overly complicated, tedious, and involves too many people.”
Valerie opened the case and began assembling her rifle with sure, confident hands. “If the goal is to die, then it’ll work.”
Lance opened the sticky window sash for her. “Can’t be Lucifer’s plan, then. They never work.”
Valerie set up the tripod and arranged the weapon to her liking. “Go ahead and make contact.”
Lance extended his mind. With a tiny nudge, he greeted his former friends directly in their brains.
“Hello, again”, he said.
“What is going on?” Panic in her voice, the housemaid clutched at her head just as Maxwell pitched forward onto the polished parquet floor. Every Rebel agent in the house heard Lance Soleil’s enormous angelic voice in their heads. Only John, preparing food in the kitchen, and Mina, alone in her office, didn’t react to the painful call of the Divine.
Lucifer’s tonsils, it felt like all the bells in Notre Dame were exploding in his head all at once.
Maxwell wobbled to a window and pounded against the glass. “Turn it down!”
The cacophony stilled. The silence hurt worse than the call.
Even though Maxwell hadn’t seen Lance since the Revolution, he recognized the other angel immediately. The ascended bastard looked better than ever. The black and white formal dress suited Lance’s icy blue eyes and blond hair. Damnation, he looked like James Bond, handsome and deadly. Maxwell tugged at the waistcoat that strained across his own softening stomach.
Soon, he promised himself. Now that Lance was here, Maxwell’s secret plot would bear fruit.
He turned his gaze to the second man. His high cheekbones, dark hair, arrogant posture seemed familiar. It wasn’t until the man hoisted a modern sniper rifle and aimed it right at Maxwell’s head that the Second Revolutionary recognized him.
“It’s the vampire,” Maxwell said, astonished. “She is here.”
“We need her out of here,” the housemaid said, worried. “The baby is everything.”
“Why did you kidnap a Guide?” Lance asked quietly.
Maxwell held his hands palm down. “We need you to kill us.”
“I can do that.” Valerie’s rifle had zoomed in on Maxwell’s eye with uncanny accuracy.
Lance touched her ear as lightly as possible. “Why?” he asked again.
“You can send us straight home.” Maxwell chewed his lip. The moment was upon him. Eons of scheming depended on Lance’s compassion and mercy.
“Allow your people to leave one at a time until only you and Miss Harker are left. I will take care of them. Once they are safe, I will release you both.”
The sweat that had been building on Maxwell’s back dripped into his woolen undergarments. Not even the orgasms he had experienced were more intense than the remembered joy of home.
He signaled the housemaid with one hand. “Gather the others. Quietly, go outside one at a time.”
“Are we going to die?” the housemaid asked.
“Yes,” Maxwell answered.
“We are coming for you. Be ready.”
Lance’s voice reverberated down the back of John’s head, where the cervical vertebrae met the skull. The deep, sensual tones created a sympathetic vibration down his body, ending where his tailbone curved close to his anus. John tightened his butt muscles in arousal but kept his mental voice quiet.
“Where have you been, you idiot?”
“Making myself pretty for you. Get out of the house. Avoid Mina at all costs. It’s time to go home.”
Mina’s heels heralded her approach. Instead of her usual quiet and measured click click click, her rapid CLACK CLACK CLACK revealed an agitated state of mind. “Jonathon? Where is everyone?”
“I’m here, darling. I had sent all the servants away for a holiday. Are you feeling well?” Maxwell pattered up the stairs, catching Mina before she entered John’s room. The Second Fallen had come to John’s aid, distracting Mina for his escape.
Moving fast, he broke the warped glass out of his bedroom’s window and jumped onto the soft muck of the ground below. He wasted a few precious moments to catch his footing and he was off, disappearing from the house’s view in seconds.
“I’m out”, he thought.
“Come to Hyde Park,” Valerie answered. “We leave from there.”
John sprinted with everything inside himself.
CHAPTER 30
John ran blindly, hyperalert to any sound of chase. He couldn’t see past his outstretch
ed hand in the smothering fog; all he had left was his ears to direct him. A slight rustle to the right warned him before Lance grasped the Guide’s elbow and spun him into Lance’s embrace.
John gripped Lance’s thick, blond hair and attacked the taller man’s mouth. Lance wrapped John’s jaw in his blunt-fingered hand and bit back. John went up on his toes, shoving Lance back two steps. As they jockeyed for dominance, John nudged Lance’s knee and took them to the ground, the Guide on top.
John straddled Lance’s crotch, held the blond’s hands down, pinning him to the mud. The Frenchman shredded Lance’s heavily starched shirt, ripping the old-style clothing to get to Lance’s flesh.
Lance bucked, forcing their already-erect cocks into a punishing rhythm.
John pulled back for a breath. “You will not disappear on me again or I will do more than break your nose.”
“I missed you, too.” Lance’s voice sounded raw, like the words had to be dragged out of him.
“Guys. We have to get out of here,” Valerie interrupted. A worn military backpack accessorized her rain-spotted evening clothes. “Let’s go home.”
Still rubbing against John, Lance waved his fingers in a blurred pattern. Seconds later, they landed on a grassy knoll next to the Shelby. High wire fences and dozens of other cars surrounded her automobile. The Mustang had been impounded from being left in the parking lot.
John shrugged, blinded by lust, and slammed his mouth back on Lance’s.
“The parameter’s secure. We need to finish our deal with Maxwell. Lance, do your thing.”
No response but panting. She lowered her guard to glance at her partners.
Valerie had seen men kiss before. Someone doesn’t reach over six hundred years old without learning a thing or two about human nature, but this was the first one she was invited to watch as she liked. And oh, did she ever like watching her men have their first kiss.
It was a humdinger, too. Fear. Love. Wonder. Valerie placed a hand on the small of John’s back, steadying and comforting her lovers. Their strong jaws pressed against each other, licking at each other’s mouths, teeth nipping at lips. Even as Lance struggled against John’s grip, the lines of stress on both of their foreheads smoothed. John bit Lance’s neck, digging his teeth into flesh as though he could suck Lance’s essence down his throat.
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