Henri had apparently noticed my reaction, because he carefully reached into his shirt to reveal a medallion. It was old and gaudy, looking as if fashioned during the Spanish Inquisition. “I live in a city full of old churches,” he explained. “You’d be surprised how many of us have these, or what loopholes one can discover with enough time and patience,” he said gently.
I was ready for this conversation to be over, but I needed to know one thing. Well, it would lead to another thing. Two steps, remember?
“Why did Le Bone dare to act so brazen?” I asked.
Henri’s face tightened in annoyance. “When you live as long as us, you learn how important reputations can be. You cherish them, nurture them, protect them. Younger vampires are eager to build their own reputation to stand up against us older vampires. It seems he let his ego get the better of him, trying to fly before he could walk.” Henri turned to me and dipped his head. “And thanks to you, he will suffer for it. You have my sincerest gratitude and deepest apologies for his crimes. As a representative of the Sanguine Council, I also thank you on their behalf.”
I nodded politely, but my mind was suddenly racing. Since I was dead inside and had very little innate trust for strangers—especially after my long night—my conspiracy senses began to tingle. If Henri and the Sanguine Council had orchestrated all of this…it was pretty much exactly how I would have planned it. Establish a common enemy in Le Bone, earn instant trust, sabotage and betray that trust later. The question was why?
“I take it you had a reason for coming to Missouri,” I asked Henri, keeping my paranoia from my voice. “It can’t just be about Roland because you had him in your clutches not long ago in Italy. Which means you are here about someone else, or something else. I’d like to know what that is. Now.”
Roland was watching us from across the room, likely hearing every word and wondering the same thing. Cain also looked attentive, but made a good show of pretending to be focused on the fire. Roland had trained me, so each and every instinct I relied upon was simply a hand-me-down from the older man. If I was thinking it, Roland had already likely thought of it and moved forward a few steps. Then again, Roland had always told me I often came to conclusions ahead of him, even if I typically used more unorthodox methods.
“The Sanguine Council desires a firmer hand regarding Kansas City,” Henri replied, seeming to carefully consider his response.
“Then they should be speaking with Haven…not Roland.”
Henri nodded. “That was the point of my visit. Haven sent me here, remember?”
I wasn’t sure I fully bought the narrative, but I forced myself to nod. Perhaps Haven had sent him here, or perhaps Haven had been manipulated into sending Henri here. I’d check Roland’s thoughts on the subject. Which meant it was time for Henri to say night-night.
“Well, it was a pleasure speaking with you, Henri. I’m sure Haven is waiting, and we know how cranky Master Vampires can get when they stay up past their bedtimes.” Because it was some time after sunrise, now.
Henri did not take offense at my dismissal, merely nodding with a warm smile. He either appreciated my candor, or he was secretly considering dismembering me in the basement of the church after his daytime nap. “It was my pleasure. I can now say I have met—and survived—the White Rose,” he chuckled, extending a hand to me. I shook it with a smile of my own, sure to make it look genuine. Because there was always the chance that he was a good little vampire. Similarly, there was always the chance that he wasn’t.
And girls should always keep their options open.
Proving Roland had been listening in, I heard a Gateway rip into existence and I turned to find a crimson portal standing open near the fire. A trio of vampires waited patiently on the other side, straightening as if coming to attention. Haven had designated a spot on his property for Roland’s Gateways, keeping a small contingent of vampires ready and waiting at all times.
I’d deflected countless requests from Haven about purchasing some of Grimm Tech’s portable Gateways—glass marbles Nate Temple had designed that let anyone use a Gateway. They obviously weren’t part of the company’s official product line—because they liked to toe the line between a legitimate company and a magical armorer for the supernatural crowd.
Like Air Jordan sneakers for basketball aficionados, everyone wanted to get their hands on Nate’s Tiny Balls—as he had named them—and since he loved to rub in the joke, he now only sold them in sets of two, forcing clients to fill purchase orders that stated requests for a dozen pairs of Nate’s Tiny Balls.
Henri dipped his chin at us in goodbye, and then stepped through the Gateway. Roland let it wink shut a few moments later and finally turned to us, seeming to quiver with pent-up fury.
“Now, the two of you are going to get out of those wet clothes and tell me exactly what happened tonight,” he snarled.
“This church rocks. Get naked and repent!” Cain cheered, holding up a fist.
Roland shot him a very dark look, pointing at the door behind him that led up to the office. “Extra clothes are in the wardrobe. Might be a little vampy for you, Cain, but I don’t care. Callie, you know where your extra clothes are.” I nodded, leading Cain through the door.
We’d retro-fitted one of the extra meeting spaces into a type of office for me, a place where I could begin accumulating weapons, clothes, and whatever else I might need at a moment’s notice. Like a panic room.
For when I needed to suit up to go hunting wabbits.
Or go treasure hunting, apparently.
Chapter 20
I huddled under my blanket, shivering despite the roaring fireplace beside us—a natural one this time. Roland paced back and forth, reading a piece of paper and looking haggard since it was after sunrise. Since my phone had taken a swim in the fountain and refused to come back to life, Roland had made me use his computer to login to the cloud and print out the image that proved my wild claims about Solomon’s Temple and this quest.
If I hadn’t saved it to the cloud, I wouldn’t have had any proof to back it up.
We sat on comfy chairs in a back office of the church to avoid windows and sunlight for Roland’s sake. Cain leaned forward, rubbing his hands together to absorb the heat faster. His back was a mess of scars, all neat, shining, silver lines like a geometric mandala of past pain. His bulging muscles only emphasized the scars, and I had noticed him flinch involuntarily several times. Whether from the bone-deep cold from our dip in the bloody fountain or from flashbacks of our near encounter, I wasn’t sure.
Our escape from the fountain had been excruciating; each rustle of a leaf, crackling twig, gust of wind, or distant voice almost sending us bolting like startled rabbits. I hadn’t dared risk using my magic to get us out of there. Not if it would deposit us right back into the fountain. We had kept to the shadows, vacating the park just before sunrise, shivering, dripping, and scared as all hell. We’d quickly found an alley and I had tested making a Gateway to safety—since I could look through it to make sure it was again functioning properly, first. It had showed us sanctuary just outside Roland’s church and we had immediately leapt through. I had closed it behind me so fast that I might have even cut off my own foot without caring.
After sending Henri packing, Roland had forced us to take a quick shower, informing us that we looked so cold that even our blood didn’t seem appetizing. Like cottage cheese, he had told us. He had personally bullied us into the shower together to warm up, and the two of us were so cold that the water had hurt like a firing squad, forcing us to lean against each other and take the abuse until our bodies recovered. Roland hadn’t left us out of his sight the entire time, using the shower walls to trap us as he squeezed out the events since last night.
Our old clothes were now drying before the fire, but I practically felt steamy beneath the blanket and the flame. Roland hadn’t been patient enough to let us get dressed after our shower, throwing blankets and towels at us and commanding us to sit before the fire and
print out the picture as he peppered us with questions. Effectively, holding our clothes hostage.
In light of the fountain drama and the fact that Cleo had used her dying scream to inform me that the Sons of Solomon were definitely not going to leave me alone, he’d agreed that the Michael topic could be put on a shelf. But knowing him, he would have given his right arm to hear every single detail of meeting the infamous Archangel.
Quid pro quo, he had refused to talk about Henri or anything related to vampire politics, telling me he would deal with it himself. I didn’t like the sound of that, but didn’t have the time to do anything about it. Not with the Sons of Solomon breathing down my neck.
Or Last Breath.
Roland grunted in frustration, snapping me out of my thoughts as he ran his hand through his hair, looking like he hadn’t slept in days. I hadn’t been kidding about the bedtime thing. I was impressed he was even standing right now. “I’ve never heard of this Song of Solomon quest. And I definitely never heard anything about this fountain being constructed in Kansas City.” He turned to look at me. “In fact, if I hadn’t seen this picture, I would be forced to doubt your story.”
I frowned at him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Cain was staring at the fire, unfazed. He’d been quiet for a while, fingering his dagger.
Roland shrugged. “I made a small Gateway to see for myself. There was no fountain.”
I blinked at him several times, not sure what to make of that. “When did you look?” I didn’t bother chastising him about the danger of his decision because he already knew it and had considered it worth the risk. And arguing wouldn’t help me right now. Roland was on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion.
“When you two were in the shower.” He stared at me with a troubled expression. “I didn’t see any fountain. Just trees. Not even cleared earth. Not even a piece of trash on the ground.”
There should have at least been two coffee cups if nothing else, because I had no idea when I had dropped mine. “That…doesn’t make any sense. I saw the newspaper, the bus…” I explained the things I had seen, all talking about that park and the fountain. If anything, this only bothered Roland more.
Cain cleared his throat. “You didn’t listen to me, Callie. I told you something was off. That place wasn’t normal. I could feel it in my bones. And I never saw any of those signs before the fountain. Remember the newspaper?”
I sighed, remembering very well. Cain had seen none of the signs that had led me to the park. “Maybe we stepped through a Gateway of some kind. It would explain why I wasn’t able to Shadow Walk us out,” I said, trying to think of any explanation that made sense. “You might not have seen the signs, but you sure as hell saw Cleo. You cut her freaking hand off. And I warned you to keep an eye on her. I knew something was strange about her.”
Cain stopped fidgeting with his dagger and shot me a confused look. “What are you talking about?”
“At the party,” I snapped, growing annoyed.
He frowned harder, his forehead wrinkling. “You pointed to a pretty blonde woman. No one else was standing near her. No one,” he said with certainty. “I never saw Cleo before she tried to kill us at the park.” He lifted his dagger pointedly, the one he had been fidgeting with. “And for the record, there was no blood on my dagger after I cut her hand off. I remember because it shocked the living hell out of me.”
The three of us were entirely silent for a few beats, not sure what to make of that. I remembered the confused look I had seen on his face right after. He was right. But at the same time, I had seen her blood spray in the air. “You also practically cut a guy’s head off, remember? I know he bled all over the pool, because we sat in it for about thirty minutes.”
Cain looked at me very seriously, and then pointed his dagger at my torn dress hanging before the fire. I turned to see…what the hell? No blood? That… wasn’t possible. It should have at least been kind of pinkish. The dress had been pure white. Instead, it just looked dirty.
I turned back to find Cain nodding at me. He didn’t look happy, but he looked determined to prove his point. “Weird, right?”
I nodded numbly, realizing I was staring back at the dress.
“We both went to the fountain, but now Roland can’t find it…” Cain said in a low tone. “These Sons of Solomon want to kill you, and can apparently stand in a party without being seen.” He met my eyes. “I’m not a quitter or anything, but…we’re facing long odds.”
Roland spoke up. “What about Last Breath? You said he killed these Sons of Solomon. Perhaps he let you live on purpose?” he suggested. Neither of us replied. Last Breath hadn’t seemed like the friendly type, so I wasn’t banking on him being charitable.
“What do you know about him, Cain?” I asked into the silence.
Cain leaned back, letting out a frustrated breath. “It’s all nonsense. He’s the boogeyman. Someone dies a gruesome death without explanation? Last Breath. Someone infiltrates a compound to kill everyone inside? Last Breath. I don’t have anything solid one way or another. Just enough urban legends to make your hair curl. The only reason I jumped on it is because he’s said to be big, a white blur, and has piercing blue eyes. I saw that at the park, and six people silently died in a single heartbeat.” He leaned forward, staring at Roland. “Last. Breath.”
Roland turned to me, waiting for my input. “I’ve never heard of him, but I saw the same thing as Cain, and whatever that thing was, it was terrifying. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Roland sighed. “As much as I hate to admit it, I think I’m quite literally about to fall asleep on my feet, but I need to point out something to you, Callie. Part of this picture makes my skin tingle…” he said, tapping the paper.
I took one look at him and realized he was right. He should have been asleep an hour ago. I stood to my feet, tugging the blanket tight around my shoulders as I studied where he pointed.
“Doors?” I asked Roland, not understanding. I glanced back at Cain. “Does that mean anything to you?” Cain thought about it for a few moments before shaking his head.
“It’s capitalized every time it is used.” Roland had an intense look on his face, looking at me expectantly. “I think you need to go to Abundant Angel,” he finally added, eyes discreetly flicking to Cain to let me know why he wasn’t speaking plainly. “Fabrizio might know something about these Doors from his time in Rome.” That’s when it hit me.
Roland had once shown me something in the basement of Abundant Angel Catholic Church. A room full of mysterious Doors hanging from chains. From the anxiety on Roland’s face, I wasn’t sure he was happy to suggest the idea. I could also see that he wasn’t certain it would hold water, but…
I checked the print out again. Every single time it had been used, Doors was capitalized.
“Just a thought. Do you have any other leads?” Roland asked me tiredly.
I shook my head, thinking hard. I couldn’t think of anything, and Roland was about to be dead weight, whether he wanted it or not.
“Cleo did mention her dislike of the Vatican. Maybe Fabrizio has some answers,” Cain agreed. “Or maybe he knows more about the Sons of Solomon. Secret organizations started with the Church, after all,” he said with a dry grin.
He wasn’t necessarily wrong.
“What do you know about this quest, Cain?”
It was a long minute before he responded. “Solomon’s Temple…” he began, “is a fool’s errand. Like the Holy Grail. It only leads to pain.”
“But it’s Solomon’s Temple,” I enunciated. Then I pointed my thumbs at my chest, careful to keep my blanket in place so I didn’t flash them.
“If it were that easy, there wouldn’t be a quest in the first place. They would just give you the keys and say welcome home, Callie.” He turned a cold pair of eyes on me. “Get any keys in the mail lately?” he asked. “Because that would be super.”
I scowled for good measure but shook my head. “No.�
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“Exactly. It’s settled then. We go see the Italian.”
Roland scratched at his chin pensively. “A mythical assassin and a mythical quest…” He glanced over at a clock in the wall and his face hardened.
The room was silent for a few moments before Cain spoke. “We should probably get dressed first,” he suggested.
Chapter 21
I was marginally pissed off that I hadn’t left a spare pair of my leather, ass-kicking gear at the church, but at least I had my Darling and Dear boots and jacket to make up for my dark jeans and tank-top. I also had the Templar scarf, which could come in handy. I didn’t dare make a quick trip home to change, because I wasn’t sure using Gateways or Shadow Walking was such a grand idea. I had a sneaking suspicion about it, in fact…
I had finished dressing before Cain, believe it or not, so I had wandered down into the church proper, finding myself waiting by the Angel statue.
I kept my eyes on the statue, because it was easier than staring too closely at the shadowy ring encircling my finger. I considered my meeting with Michael, trying to decide if this quest had anything to do with learning how to use the Seal of Solomon, and how to get Nameless off my thumb for good. Probability was high that Solomon’s Temple might have information about Solomon’s Seal. And that meant I needed to win this trial.
The message had said there were two ways to enter—one on the earth, and one in the mind. As a wizard, I had extraordinary abilities. But where would they best be used? I didn’t have the experience or knowledge the Sons of Solomon had, so did that mean I should try to beat them with the land entrance? Or with my magic—a type of mental power—should I try the mind? Maybe their knowledge was strictly of the Earth—old parchments, old locations, and things of that nature. Clues on Earth. Or it could mean their minds were bigger, and that I should stick to the Earth like a cavewoman, hitting rocks with my club until I found the entrance.
Sinner: Feathers and Fire Book 5 Page 11