Raising Innocence: A Rylee Adamson Novel (Book 3)

by Mayer, Shannon

  Though I doubted that was the case now, I still couldn’t turn around and just leave without making sure whoever was being chanted over was okay.

  With a shove, I opened the double doors wide and strode in, stopping in the vestibule, the scene before me not something I’d expected.

  Two circles of priests surrounded a girl strapped down on the altar; a cloth was draped over her body and a chunk of wood, what I was betting was a heavy wooden cross, was on her chest. One priest held a bowl over her head as he chanted, then slowly poured the water out on her face.

  She snapped her head to the side. “Get the hell off me!” Her English accent made me think of the girl from Harry Potter. Hermione, if I remembered the name right.

  The priests, of course, didn’t listen, nor did they listen as she flicked her wrist and sent one of them flying into the air. They had no idea what they were dealing with.

  “You should let her go,” I said loudly, and the church went silent.

  Stepping down out of the vestibule and into the main alley between the pews, I ran my fingers over the wooden armrests. “She isn’t possessed and you have no right to torment her.”

  Two priests came toward me, faces grim, the one on the right doing all the talking. “Her family gave her to the church to heal. Now be gone with you.” They shooed at me like I was a stray dog.

  I smiled and slid my two swords from the crossed sheath at my back. “I don’t play nice, boys.”

  They stopped their advance on me and it was my turn to motion for them to get out of my way. They listened, stepping back.

  The head honcho, the one with the fancy scarf around his neck and ridiculous looking hat, lifted his hand to me, palm out. “God will not be denied, and no matter the temptations that the devil will send, we will be faithful and bring this child to the light of Christ.”

  I lifted my middle finger to him. “This ain’t got nothing to do with God or Christ. Now. Let. Her. Go.”

  The priest’s eyes blazed with anger; I just continued to smile. This was about to get fun. I wouldn’t really kill any of the priests, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t make for some good practice. I put my swords back into their sheaths one at a time. There were nine priests, just enough to make this interesting.

  I beckoned to the high priest, or whatever the fuck he was. “You’re going to have to take me out before I let you put one more drop of holy water on her.”

  The church went even more silent, as if everyone held their breath, as if the air and tension from the tombs below had crept upward.

  Mr. High Priest with the funky scarf and stupid hat made a motion with his left hand toward me. “Take her. We must not be interfered with; the child’s soul is at stake.”

  Let the fun begin.

  Hands circled around my waist in an attempt to keep my arms pinned. I snapped my head backwards, connecting with his nose, the crunch of cartilage crackling through the air, blood hitting the back of my neck. He screamed and let go. Spinning, I jerked my right foot up catching the second priest under his chin, knocking him out cold. Damn, that was over way too fast.

  Dusting off my jacket, I turned and lifted an eyebrow at the remaining priests. “Anyone else care for a go?”

  Six of the remaining seven moved toward me, spreading out through the pews. Perfect. Hopping up onto the pew closest to me, I ran toward the closest priest, dropping my weight and sliding along the wooden bench, as he swung a sloppy right hook at me.

  “Let me guess, you’ve got mommy issues. That’s why you’re a priest,” I said, spinning on my butt and pinning the priest to the pew in front of us. He glowered at me and I booted him hard in the chest, knocking the breath out of him. As he slid down, a second kick to the jaw made his eyes roll back in his head.

  Moving quickly, I dispatched the next two priests with ease, leaving three young men who looked like they were fresh out of seminary, two of the three covered heavily in pimples.

  “Listen, I can kick your asses and you can wake up tomorrow morning uglier than you are now . . .” I paused to let them take that in, “or you can fuck off and keep what’s left of your pride.”

  They grouped tighter together and slowly advanced.

  Smiling, I said, “Alrighty then.”

  I unhooked my whip and let the tail drop to the floor, the leather shushing along the wood as I walked. A flick of my wrist snapped the whip into the air, and I pulled down hard with my whole arm to crack the leather tip over their heads. They scattered like a herd of sketched out cows, running for the exits.

  Laughing softly, I tucked the whip away and turned to face the final priest who, no doubt, wished he had some magical powers of his own right then.

  “You are of the devil and I cast you out,” he yelled, flicking holy water at me.

  I couldn’t stop the laugh that leapt out of me. “Oh my. Please, throw some more lukewarm water on me. I’m trembling with fear all the way down to my tight little ass.”

  The high priest shook with what I could only assume was rage as he started in on the Latin.

  I cleared my throat, then held up a hand to him and miracle of miracles, he stopped. “Listen, I’m going to take the girl, and you’re going to say that she ran away. Got it?”

  “She is my charge! I cannot—”

  My sword cleared its sheath, the blade slicing through the air so fast he couldn’t dodge it; I held the tip against the hollow of his throat. “You can. She doesn’t belong with you in your world. She belongs in mine.”

  He opened his mouth to speak, and I stepped closer; let him see my tri-coloured eyes as they swirled.

  Stuttering to a stop he stepped away. “Get thee gone. And take the devil child with you.”

  I saluted him with my sword. “Excellent.”

  Two swift slices and the girl was free of her bonds. She slithered off the altar, clutching the tablecloth over her. The priest snatched it away. “Do not touch the emblems of Christ!”

  “Stuff a sock in it,” I said, as I held my hand out to the girl.

  Barely covered with a thin sack-like dress that hung to the floor, she stood in the shadows of one of the stained glass windows, the faint midday light coming through doing nothing to give me a better look at her. Blazing blue eyes glared at me, and though I felt her power swirl around me, it did nothing. Her eyes widened and I smiled at her. “You can’t hurt me. Not like you do the others.”

  “I don’t want to come with you.”

  Ignoring the priest and his muttering, I kept my focus on the girl. She made me think of Berget. They were so similar in colouring with the blonde hair and almost shocking blue eyes, but this girl, from what I could see of her, was rail thin, all angles and points. It looked as though they’d been starving her, the bastards. If she’d been a little older or better trained, they never would have been able to tie her down. They were lucky she hadn’t killed them by accident.

  “Well, here’s the thing,” I said, putting a hand on the altar and swinging across it to sit with my legs dangling on the other side. “You don’t really fit in this part of the world, do you?”

  Her eyes narrowed.

  I went on. “And I’m betting your family just dumped you here, once your temper tantrums got out of control?”

  “They weren’t temper tantrums!” Tears starting to leak out of her eyes, the first I’d seen since I’d stepped into the church. This was one tough little kid. She reminded me a little of myself.

  I softened my voice. “No, they weren’t. But that is what they thought, isn’t it?”

  Gulping back a sob, she gave one short nod.

  “Come on, kid. Let’s get you out of here.”

  In my heart, I was crying with her. To be abandoned by your family, to have them walk away from you because you were a freak, that was a wound that would never truly heal—and if it did, it would scar her deeply. I would find her a place to learn, to study and hone her skills. Somewhere safe. Maybe the Coven back home. Now that I knew they weren’t what Mil
ly claimed, they would probably welcome the kid with open arms.

  Sniffling, she reached out for my hand.

  I covered her fingers with my own. “I won’t let anyone hurt you. I promise.” Dangerous words, but she needed that. I could see it in her.

  She lifted her eyes to mine. “My name is Pamela.”

  “I’m Rylee. Or as dipshit over here would say, ‘The Devil.’”

  “You admit it!” He screeched.

  I was rewarded with Pamela stepping out of the shadows and nailing him with a pure bolt of power, flipping him ass over tea kettle and into the far wall with a thud.

  “Easy kid,” I said, pushing her hands down.

  “He hurt me,” she whispered, staring at where he lay.

  My hackles went up, anger spilling through my body, but what she said next slowed me down.

  “And that should even the score.”

  I smiled at her. “Come on, let’s go.”

  She took two steps fully into the light, her socks peeking out from under the long sack dress. Shocked beyond the ability to speak, all I could do was stare at her bright blue socks.

  12

  Milly had him carry her through the Veil and into the castle where they’d first found India. He was unable to do anything physical to stop what was happening, but his mind formulated plan after plan. He just needed to . . . what? He had no way to break this spell Milly had on him. Not unless he could get the torc off his neck.

  “I don’t want you to hate me, Liam. I know Rylee loves you. And she’s like family to me.”

  He could hardly believe the lies pouring from her lips; was she really going to try and explain this backstabbing behaviour?

  Milly directed him up the stairs, through the castle, and out the front gates where there was, of all things, a horse drawn carriage waiting for them.

  They stepped in and the carriage rolled forward before Milly spoke again. “I don’t want to hurt her, but she needs to see, to understand how deadly a game she is playing without even knowing it.”

  O’Shea closed his eyes. At least he had that much control. At the moment, anyway.

  The witch kept talking. “Faris, he’s special. He will be the new emperor. And I will be his counsellor.” She paused. “You may speak your mind.”

  “Are you fucking nuts?” O’Shea roared.

  Milly lifted an eyebrow. “Crazy? No. Pragmatic? Yes.” She smoothed her clothes out over her body, hands lingering near her belly button, confirming his suspicions and freaking him out at the same time.

  “You’re pregnant with the vampire’s child?”

  She burst out laughing, leaning her head back and giving him a perfect view of her throat. The image of his teeth burying into the slim white column burned into his mind, giving him something to look forward to. Particularly if it was the vampire’s child she carried.

  “No,” Milly said, her eyes softening. “Ethan’s child. He’s the leader of the Coven I was a part of.”

  O’Shea said nothing, and she went on as if he’d encouraged her.

  “Ethan is the most powerful warlock in the western hemisphere.”

  “So you threw your family under the bus for a lay? I hope it was worth it.” O’Shea said, glaring at the sultry, slutty witch.

  She glared back. “I love him, and he loves me, regardless of his past. And as soon as he can, he’s going to come here to be with me and the baby.”

  He smiled, a mere baring of his teeth; then laughed. “Let me guess, he had a wife and he told you that he would leave her for you? That you were the one he’d been waiting for? Please, with all the men you’ve fucked, you can’t tell me you actually bought that line?”

  “You don’t know him! He’d not like the others. He won’t leave me. Besides his wife is already dead,” she said, her green eyes snapping with anger.

  “Why’d you let me speak? You didn’t think I’d actually agree with you, did you?”

  “No, I didn’t. But every man on death row should be allowed to have a final say.”

  Her words hit him square in the chest, sucking the air from him. Fighting against whatever spell held him against his will did nothing, his muscles didn’t even tremble in response to his demand to move.

  Milly leaned forward and ran a finger along his jaw. “What, you didn’t think I was going to let you live, did you? Rylee won’t let Faris help her until she’s alone, until she has nowhere else to turn for help. You’re going to kill Alex, and then Rylee will kill you. That will break her and make her open to Faris’ advances. Which is what I, and my true master, wish.”

  She thought she had it all planned out? Fuck, he had to keep her talking, there had to be a weakness.

  “You don’t know her very well if you think that. She’ll kill you for this, Milly.”

  “Not when I’m pregnant, she won’t.” Her self-satisfied smile grated across his nerves.

  “What about Eve and Giselle?”

  “I left something, a surprise for Eve. Giselle . . .” she closed her eyes and pressed her fingers to them, the first sign of remorse he’d seen. “Giselle will be last. It will be a mercy to end her life.”

  Lowering his voice, he all but growled at her. “You are going to die, witch. A long, slow, painful death, and one that your vampire, or true master, whoever the hell he is, won’t save you from. Because in the end, they don’t give a shit about you. You’ve bet on the wrong horse. You should have bet on Rylee.”

  The carriage lurched over a bump and she raised her hand to him, her power curling around his upper body. “You forget your place, wolf. You are no long an FBI agent—you’re hardly even a man. You should try to remember that while we’re here.”

  Through grit teeth, he asked the final question before she silenced him once more, “Where is here, exactly?”

  She smiled. “London.”

  *-*-*-*

  Pamela sat with her legs dangling off the edge of the chair, a sandwich in one hand, can of pop in the other, Alex staring up at her from the floor with big begging eyes and whispered pleas for her to share. We’d found her some clothes to replace the sack that had been masquerading as a dress, and a pair of shoes that sort of fit, but all I saw were her blue socks, like a beacon to my eyes. Giselle had been raving about blue socks for the last few months, but surely this was a coincidence? No, even I knew better than to question this chain of events. Pamela was needed, and the only thing Giselle had been able to see of her in the future was her blue socks. I shook my head. Unbelievable. A last gift from my mentor, one that I’d have never seen coming, not in a million years.

  Will touched my right elbow, drawing my attention to him. “You can’t keep this girl. We’ve got to return her to her family.”

  I felt more than saw Pamela still. “We don’t even know her last name, so how are we supposed to track down her family?” I hoped she picked up the hint.

  Will bent down, crouching in front of the young witch. “Honey, what’s your last name?”

  Her eyes met mine over his head. “I don’t remember.” Good girl.

  Will turned his head to glare at me.

  I shrugged. “I didn’t say a thing.”

  “You didn’t have to.”

  “I think I know what we’re after; what’s taking the kids.” A change of subject was needed and this was a legit switch of topics. I shifted closer, lowering my voice. If I was wrong, I’d look like a fool in front of all these suits. Not something I was eager to experience, so for now it would be just between me and Will.

  He closed the gap between us, his hands just suddenly resting on my hips, his lips moving very little. “If we look like we’re having an affair, people won’t take you seriously.”

  “They also won’t follow me around if they think I’m sneaking off to get laid. It’ll mean I can move around more freely,” I said, also moving my lips as little as possible.

  His hands slipped around my waist, totally inappropriate in any circumstance, and I could feel the stares from around the
room settling on us. The thing was, I felt nothing, no tingle, no flush of heat. Will was handsome, young, available.

  But he wasn’t Liam. Not by a long shot.

  “Necromancer.” I said.

  Will actually jerked away from me, his eyes bugging. “You’re shitting me.”

  “Nope.”

  “Do you have proof?”

  I pulled the papers that Harold the caretaker had given me and slid them across the desk. I kept my voice low. “Here you go. Pictures and everything. The grave ‘robberies’ stopped right around the time the kids started to go missing from the hospitals. Seems like our boy was looking for fresher meat.”

  Before Will could pick up the papers, Alex whimpered and scooted closer to Pamela. Watching them interact, it was interesting to see how quickly she accepted the supernatural. Then again, I’d been the same way when Giselle had found me. I’d accepted it within days, less maybe. It seemed that kids just saw what they saw and it became a part of their world almost seamlessly. Unlike the adults who got introduced to the supernatural. My thoughts again drifted to O’Shea. He’d caught on; it had just taken a while.

  Pamela held up a piece of bologna from her sandwich. “Alex, sit.” He sat up, tail thumping.

  “Now, lay down.” He flopped flat to the ground, all four limbs sprawled straight out.

  “Roll over.” The werewolf rolled across the floor and right into the red clad legs of the woman who’d screamed at us when we first arrived. She tumbled to the floor with a screech that made Alex clap his paws over his ears and howl.

  Pamela giggled, one hand covering her lips, shoulders hunched as she laughed.

  I jumped into the fray and yanked Alex away from the woman, who was still screeching.

  “Are you all right?” I bent over the woman, not normally so worried about the stunts Alex pulled, but after the incident with O’Shea, I was hyper aware of the possibilities that could arise from a simple cut or even a scratch.

  The woman jerked her arm away from me and clambered to her feet, her hair—which had previously been in a tight bun—in complete disarray. “Do not touch me.”