She kept up the attack, striking as fast as she could and giving me precious time to get control of myself again.
As soon as I could, I ran forward and tried to jab him in the back. He seemed to sense me, and he shifted sideways just in time. My momentum carried me almost to Cleo. In fact, my blade reached her, but thank God, wouldn’t penetrate.
She put out an arm to steady me and told me, Get behind him again.
I circled around him where he stood in the open middle of the living room. He spun with blinding speed, taking each of us on in turn.
He sliced open her free arm. She screamed in pain but kept fighting. We had to end this soon. He was too experienced for us.
Then I remembered what she’d said about using the room. I maneuvered him until the coffee table was behind him.
Cleo and I came at him from opposing sides but still in front. When he swung his sword at her, I pushed him in the chest with my free hand. He fell back against the coffee table, and I drove the tip of my sword into his breastbone. The blade penetrated like his bones were as soft as butter.
He screamed as my blade passed through his heart and out his back. In a puff of black smoke, he vanished.
“Mission accomplished,” I said.
“It wasn’t pretty, but neither of us are true fighters. We are lucky we won.”
She held her wounded arm stiffly at one side, and I could tell from the way her face was scrunched up that it hurt bad. “Let me heal your arm.”
She gave me a crooked smile. “That would be wonderful.”
This was a cursed wound, and I knew those were dangerous to me as well as her. Yasmin had warned me. “I need a minute to get into the right frame of mind before I touch you. You’re welcome to ask for help while I’m trying to get my act together.”
“I know how this process works,” she replied. “I’ve suffered many wounds and been healed every time, but not always quickly.”
I sat in a winged back chair and began to meditate. There was no huge rush, but it wasn’t easy to take my mind off the fight we’d just won. All this was too new to me.
I began to count and stared at an empty spot on one of Fuller’s walls.
I made it to a hundred twice before my mind began to calm down. Cleo sat on the coffee table near me and waited patiently.
Eventually, my mind slipped into that state of relaxed alertness Yasmin had called the third level. The thought that I’d done it by myself for the first time flashed through my mind, but I pushed it aside. Celebrate later.
My life-force flowed in sync with God’s perfect grace.
Careful not to lose my concentration, I motioned for her to give me her injured arm.
She stretched it out, and when I touched her hand, I felt the searing pain she was experiencing. It rocked my mind for an instant, but I’d expected that. After a few seconds, I restored my connection to the infinite power of God.
The pain eased then vanished. When I looked at the wound, it was already closing. By keeping my concentration steady, I managed to heal the cut completely.
When her arm looked normal again, I let go of her hand. Then I took a few minutes to slowly pull out of my meditation.
Then Cleo sent both Honah and me a message. We finished off the demons, barely, and prevented the fire. We now know where Pierce, the head demon in this area, is supposed to be at two a.m. We’ll go there early and try to find out more about Pierce. Then, as soon as he arrives, we’ll leave and alert you.
The old chief replied almost immediately. Sorry, Cleopatra and Gabriel, that we could not help earlier. Take no more chances tonight. Only visit the meeting place if you can remain safe.
“Should we take a chance of running into him?” I asked her.
“Perhaps. We should go early and see if we could wait for the wraith safely. If not, we leave well before two a.m. Do you know the Cherry Creek area?”
“Well enough. Mystery is the name of the club.” I checked my phone. “We have hours to get there and leave before Pierce arrives.”
-o-o-o-
Friday, June 23rd
THE CHERRY CREEK neighborhood was the fanciest shopping district in Denver, and the area contained a mixture of homes and stores. The club was well disguised. I couldn’t find an Internet listing for any business named Mystery in Denver, and my dark web search gave me way too many hits. I checked all that also mentioned Denver or Cherry Creek, but no luck.
The only way I found the place was through one of Sparta’s memories. He’d seen a golf shop named Woods and Irons across the street. That was easy to find.
The club was located in a dirty townhouse made of stone that looked like a prime candidate for rehab. A bum with a long, scraggly beard sat on the front porch’s top step under a sagging overhang.
As I drove by, Cleo said, “Don’t even slow down. That’s a disguised ogre guarding the building. We could defeat him together but not without alerting those inside.”
I kept driving to the end of the block and parked in one of the few open spots available. “How’re we going to get in?”
She sighed. “Very carefully. If Sparta’s memory of the wraith is correct, he’s far too powerful for us to approach. We’d need a guardian angel as strong as Griffin, at the very least.”
“We could wait here for Pierce to come out when Sparta doesn’t show,” I said.
She shook her head. “He probably enters and leaves in a disguise. Why would the state’s governor risk being recognized here?”
It was a good point. It was almost midnight, so we had plenty of time to enter, case the joint, and see if we should risk staying until the major scumbag arrived.
-o-o-o-
CLEO AND I sat in the dark for quite a while before she whispered, “The Lord has blessed us.”
A young Asian couple in formal wear walked by. Cleo wiggled her fingers, casting some kind of spell to stun them. I jumped out of the car at the same time as she did, and we took control of the couple’s minds.
I didn’t understand how my partner had recognized these two as evil from fifty feet away, but there was still lots I didn’t understand.
Once I was in the man’s mind, I confirmed that he, Chen Ling Sang was the spawn of a werewolf mating with a Chinese woman. Recently, Chen earned his living by smuggling bear galls and elk antlers to the folks back home. He was a pig, but he looked respectable in his tailor-made black tuxedo.
Chen’s partner is Bo Wu Chi, Cleo told me. She’s a huli jing, a fox spirit. Not mortal and not particularly evil. But she is selfish and greedy.
Bo wore a red silk dress with a plunging neckline and high heels. A lovely woman with a heart made of the blackest coal apparently. The man’s memory told me they hoped to buy a house near the University of Denver from a vampire waiting for them at the club. She was a graduate student at the school, studying business. A top-notch student.
Outwardly, Bo seems relatively normal, I told Cleo. Why is she hanging around with this dirtball?
My partner laughed in my head. She’s being trained to work in the family business, selling fake prescription drugs to people too poor to afford the real thing. In Asia, there are few quality standards for medicines.
These two were disgusting, but I reminded myself that I’d probably run into a lot worse as I spied on demons and the mortals who hung around them. I needed to develop a tougher hide to tolerate their nastiness in all its forms.
When the couple approached the ogre pretending to be a beggar, Bo hung back a little. Chen stepped forward despite a sinking feeling in his stomach. One of the ogre’s eyes was covered by a patch. His clothes were filthy, and little brown bugs crawled all over him. Ticks?
The ogre licked a couple from the back of his hand and ate them.
Without saying a word, the ogre held out that hand.
Chen shuddered and gave him a twenty-dollar bill and a black metal disk the size of a quarter.
The ogre pocketed the bill and put the disk into a slot at the bottom of an elec
tronic device about the size of deck of cards. Chen’s image popped up on the screen. The monster pointed a bright flashlight at Chen’s face for a few seconds and stared at him with his one good eye.
Apparently satisfied, the ogre returned the black disk and waved the couple past. A door buzzed behind the ogre. Chen quickly pushed it open. Bo followed on his heels.
-o-o-o-
THE INSIDE OF the townhouse consisted of one large room taking up most of the main floor. The club was as opposite from the outside as possible. The room lit with crystal chandeliers, and the walls were covered with fancy wallpaper showing different kinds of roses.
A maître d’ in a white tux smiled at the couple. “May I help you, monsieur?”
“We’re here to meet Helmut Stein.”
After mouthing several niceties about the weather, the maître d’ led them to a table covered with white linen. Two candles were mounted in what looked like gold candlesticks.
A tall, thin man, wearing a blue seersucker suit, stood to greet the couple.
Meanwhile, a redheaded young waitress in a white uniform poured champagne into three crystal flutes and faded into the background.
“Welcome. Did you bring the check?” Stein asked.
“Of course,” Chen replied.
Stein shook Chen’s and Bo’s hands with enthusiasm, raised his glass, and said, “To your lovely new home!”
They all drank then sat. Chen handed over a check for $1.2 million, and Stein passed over a signed warranty deed. That was it for the formalities, which surprised me. When Kevin had bought his townhouse in Boulder, I’d sat in on the closing to provide moral support. It’d taken an hour, and he’d signed dozens of documents.
Maybe demons were more trusting, or maybe Stein knew Chen had no desire whatsoever to screw with someone who would be happy to drain every ounce of his blood from him.
The Chinese couple pretended to be friendly with the vampire, and I paid more attention to the club itself. Thirty tables of various sizes had been spread across the room, and about half were occupied. The silverware, china, and glassware were all first-rate, like in a fancy hotel. Two-thirds of the customers looked human, like Chen and Bo, but that was probably for convenience’s sake in eating with utensils.
The drink menu included fancy wines and mixed drinks, but it also included seven kinds of blood, including some supposedly from children. I shuddered as I wondered how the owners of this establishment could get away with that. I hoped it was another lie.
The dinner menu seemed normal, except for raw organs which included thinly sliced human hearts. That’s what the vampire ordered. The couple stuck with boring old bison tenderloin medallions in a cherry and burgundy sauce.
Every time Chen looked around, I checked to see if Pierce had showed up. Thanks to Sparta’s memory, I knew what he looked like in his wraith form. A black cloak and hood covered a gaunt face with red eyes. His hands reminded me of a raptor’s feet, with his long thin fingers tipped with small curved claws.
Nobody in the room looked anywhere close to a wraith, but on the far side, a group of eight muscular and scowling demons sat at a long table. Three seats there remained empty. None of the demons had ordered food, but they were drinking hard and yelling at each other. Everyone pretended to ignore them.
That must be Pierce’s party, I told Cleo. They’re acting like they own the joint.
She responded, Maybe they do, or he does. It will be interesting to see how they behave when their lord arrives. Once he does, we need to move to the kitchen quickly. I sense a strong undercurrent of anger from those monsters, but they shouldn’t go to the kitchen.
It sounded like a good plan to me. Nothing would please me more than helping Pierce get justice for starting those fires.
-o-o-o-
AS OUR THREESOME’S dinner progressed, I felt a strong undercurrent of worry building in Chen. Stein was paying way too much attention to Bo, flattering her over and over.
I was about to suggest to Cleo that we switch to a pair of werewolves making eyes at each other at a neighboring table, but the vampire said, “Chen, my good man, if you leave now, I’ll let you keep the house.”
My guy didn’t need to be told twice. He motioned for Bo to follow him.
But Stein put up a hand. “No, she stays. She’s far too delectable for the likes of you.”
Bo’s eyes opened wide, and she put one hand in her purse on her lap.
Chen shrugged and began to stand.
Her hand whipped out of her purse almost quicker than the eye could follow. She held a knife with the blade sticking out the bottom of her fist. With a backwards sweep of her arm, she drove the blade up between two ribs into the center of Chen’s chest.
The pain was shocking, instantaneous, and overwhelming. He gasped and coughed, leaning forward.
I felt all his suffering as his heart gave out. While I could still think, I switched to the vampire’s mind. He’d been caught by surprise, too, and he burst out laughing.
Bo stood and took the deed out of Chen’s pocket. “Frankly, I’m not that good in bed, and he’ll give you more blood.”
“Fair enough,” the vampire said, still laughing, “but I do like your style. Good evening.”
Bo strode away. The waitress hurried forward.
Stein said, “Please have him taken to a private room where I can enjoy him at my leisure.”
“Room three is available.” The waitress motioned for two men to approach, and they dragged Chen by the arms, Bo’s knife still lodged in his chest. The vampire slowly stood and followed them to a door on one side of the dining room with the number three on it.
Everyone pretended as though nothing had happened.
As the vampire moved past a table with three wizards, I switched minds again, this time into an old wizard wearing a burgundy robe. Cleo, where are you?
An older brunette waitress approached the table where the wizards sat. I’m inside her for now. She’s also serving the demons at the large table.
That didn’t strike me as a great idea. Pierce could show up at any minute, and you’d be forced to serve him. Too close.
The waitress served the wizards a small bottle of cognac and three glasses. They lit up cigars, obviously not caring that Denver had laws against smoking in restaurants.
According to the waitress, Pierce sent word that he’ll be late, Cleo told me. Won’t be here for at least an hour. The demons at his table just decided to eat while waiting.
This was too good an opportunity to pass up. We can switch to their heads to learn what they know.
Cleo replied, I think so. Come with us. The waitress is headed there now.
I jumped to the waitress’ mind as she left the wizards behind.
Why do I keep getting killed, and you’re always fine? I asked Cleo.
I keep my evildoers from doing stupid things, Gabriel. You should try it. Or maybe you have a pain fetish.
That was ridiculous, but I wasn’t going to argue with her while we were supposed to be gathering demon intelligence.
The waitress slowed as she neared the large table. These guys loved to cause her trouble, but they worked for Pierce, so she had to put up with them. She got stuck with their table because she was the homeliest waitress on staff. The horny demons usually left her alone, and her boss paid her an extra three hundred bucks every time she worked their table. It was good money—if she survived.
I figured the meanest guy at the table, a broad-shouldered dwarf, was probably Pierce’s right-hand man, so I slipped into his head while the waitress cleared the empty beer mugs in front of him. She held her breath near him because he stank like rotting flesh.
His arms were a foot thick, and he had no neck to speak of. He was bald on top, but his long gray beard reached to a huge gut. The beard had something crawling around in it, but as long as it didn’t bite him, the dwarf left it alone.
Seconds later, I realized his name was Stump, and he was Pierce’s third in command on the demon
side of the governor’s various projects. The number two guy was a werewolf named Fang who hadn’t shown yet either.
I wondered where Pierce and Fang happened to be, and Stump thought the governor was fighting the soldiers for a drug cartel at a bar in northwest Denver. Pierce faced twenty-to-one odds, but Stump was sure he’d win. All the guns and knives in the world wouldn’t slow down a wraith.
Next, I checked the dwarf’s memories about Pierce’s number two guy, Fang. He had set the Meeker Park and Frazer blazes under Pierce’s orders.
Then my heart skipped a beat. The werewolf wasn’t satisfied with causing all that suffering. He was, at that moment, somewhere in the foothills west of Denver setting another fire. Sparta hadn’t been Pierce’s only pyro working in the night.
Cleo, huge trouble! The demons are setting another fire tonight. It may already be too late!
She’d taken over the mind of a tattooed, Hispanic guy built like a defensive lineman. He was sitting across from me.
She told me, We can’t send a message out without letting these thugs know we’re here. We have to get into the body of someone leaving.
No one seemed ready to leave the club, and we were supposed to be waiting for Pierce anyway, so we were stuck.
Chapter 20
WHILE WE WAITED, I asked Cleo about the tattooed guy she was controlling.
He’s a prison gang boss out on parole. He isn’t smart enough to realize how quickly one of these immortals could reincarnate him, and he thinks the governor wants him running the cocaine trade in Colorado.
Nobody at the table was a former choirboy. Although I wasn’t sensitive to others’ feelings, even I could tell this was a volatile mix of monsters. Stump’s only job for the boss at that moment was to keep these demons there from beating the crap out of each other.
Unfortunately, given the growing rowdiness, I doubted the dwarf could keep them under control much longer. Stump belched, and the smell would’ve made most mortal men pass out.
On the plus side, the dwarf’s mind contained a huge amount of other information about the senior local demons, and I tried to learn as much as I could. For instance, I discovered that Pierce kept his thugs, human and otherwise, in a large old house a few blocks from the Governor’s Mansion. Stump was his major enforcer, and the dwarf spent most of his time traveling from place to place, making sure the wraith’s lieutenants stayed loyal to the boss and paid the tribute they owed.
Forged by Fire (Angels at the Edge Book 1) Page 19