He smiled at me with very white teeth. “Wotcher cock,” he said in a distinct British accent.
“Watch his what?” Callie gasped in disbelief.
Baron Skyfall grinned back at her, but I spoke first. “A greeting,” I told her, meeting his eyes. Those orange irises seemed to roil with flame. That phrase was also used to mean watch your clock, as in, your ass. A greeting and… a warning. Or was it a threat? Callie repeated the phrase under her breath as if committing it to memory. I only recognized it because I had spent quite a bit of time in London recently – in some of the seedier neighborhoods where cockney slang was more frequently used. Did he know about my travels? I turned to the next dragon.
Chu was next in line. He laughed in the face of stereotypes by sporting a long, thin goatee – his mustache hanging down below his chin in thin strips like ribbons of silk, and his wisp of a chin patch hung between it, a little thicker, but not by much. He wore his hair tied back in a gray ponytail, not a strand out of place. His suit matched the two blue dragons I had seen at the front door, and I wondered idly if they were his sons.
He stared at me like a big stinky asshole.
His gray hair let me know he was old, but there was no way for me to guess the number. Gertrude looked to be in her sixties but she was over four hundred. Chu looked to be in his mid-fifties, but he maintained the youth of a Shaolin Monk ready to Zen my ass into oblivion. I squinted at him, letting him take that how he pleased. His slate gray eyes narrowed further.
Enya had skin as pale as milk, and her long wavy hair was the color of spun gold – but with hints of red when the light caught it just so. She wore a layered silk robe, almost inappropriate enough to be a nightgown, and had a long thin neck. Her open robe informed me that she was very well developed and proud of it. She didn’t appear to be past her early forties, but those emerald green eyes were darkly inviting. A cougar on the prowl. I fed her ego with a smile. Her reply was to slowly lick her teeth. Subtle, she was not. This Russian was trouble in a silk bow.
The last was Malik, a caramel-skinned man. He apparently found his book more interesting because he didn’t bother acknowledging me. He was lithe and thin but looked as strong as wire. His dark hair hung to his shoulders and I caught a faint yellow glow to his eyes as he turned a page in his book. I was pretty sure that he was Egyptian like Ivory.
Which brought up an interesting point. Almost everyone I had seen so far tonight had been a stranger and seemed to closely resemble these Council members. Except for Baron, but there had been those guards lurking in the shadows with radios and guns. Maybe they were his.
Four old dragons from various parts of the world in a Council with Dirty Gerty… I’d overheard that Raego’s grandmother had been causing nothing but headaches since she came to town. Nothing major, just the grumblings anyone would make over their grandmother living with them. But I hadn’t heard anything about her running a Council until tonight. Had Raego given her this Council to get her out of his hair? A peace offering? Or was this a power struggle? It might even be a check against Raego’s… absentmindedness.
Maybe this Council wasn’t a bad idea. Like a Board of Directors to keep the trigger-happy CEO in line.
But everything I had learned so far from Raego, the added security, all the new faces… It just didn’t feel like one big happy family. And whenever a group of older, wiser patriarchs and matriarchs coordinated together to assert their will on a younger relative, it rarely worked to his benefit. Then again, I had always been suspicious of groups. It was far too easy for individuals to get swept up in their hidden agendas.
Raego piped up, addressing the Council. “This is Callie Penrose, a wizard from Kansas City. She… well, kills assholes, I guess.” He turned to her, beaming energetically. “Ever killed a dragon, Callie?” he asked before slurping loudly from his drink. “Nate has.”
I got ready to throw down.
Chapter 12
Callie arched a brow at Raego, momentarily caught off guard. “Not yet.”
Baron Skyfall’s booming laughter doused the tension in the small room like a wet blanket. Malik snapped his book shut at the sudden sound. Callie smiled back at Baron, shrugging. Since Malik had been so rudely interrupted, he set the book down with an impatient sigh and deigned to grace us with his unbridled attention.
Raego pointed at Tory. “This is Tory Marlin. Thought you might want to interview her for the… investigation.” They nodded politely, but didn’t seem particularly interested at the mention of interviewing her. “Oh, and she’s a Beast Master,” he added, as if he’d almost forgotten.
That caught their attention. Malik even scooted back in his chair, eyes narrowing. Enya leaned forward, cocking her head thoughtfully. She was smiling, I think. I was too busy making sure she wasn’t about to fall out of that robe. Chu blinked slowly, but I saw his fingers twitch.
Dirty Gerty spoke up in a casual tone. “She is also beholden to Nate Temple.”
“I am beholden to no one,” Tory snarled angrily. “If you don’t want my help, stop wasting my time. I’ve got plenty of other things to do.” She turned to leave the room.
“Finally, a good idea,” I muttered, turning to follow her. I stumbled into her back and fell down onto my ass. I frowned as she slowly turned to look down at me, eyes very cold.
“I don’t think anyone asked you for your opinion…”
I scowled angrily. “This is a shit idea, Tory, and you know it—”
Tory gave an annoyed shake of her head and walked past me. She whipped out a chair and sat down across from the Council. “It would be rude to not at least hear you out.”
Callie glanced down at me, shrugged, and then joined Tory at the table. I climbed to my feet, grumbling unhappily. Rather than crawling up to the table like a kicked puppy, I sauntered over to Raego, holding out my hand for a drink. He pointed a finger at the bar and then jumped up to sit on the counter. My eyes narrowed. The bastard. Not even in his own house. He wasn’t going to serve me a drink. Then again, the thought might have never crossed his mind.
I poured a healthy splash of something amber colored into a glass. I sniffed it, felt my eyes water a little, and grunted in approval. Then, with no one else to impress, I climbed up onto the bar beside Raego, ignoring the perfectly empty bar stools. In fact, I propped my shoes on them, watching as Dirty Gerty spoke to Tory.
Callie propped her chin in her hands, observing silently. Looking more curious than anything.
Dirty Gerty cleared her throat, interrupting Chu in the middle of his question. He didn’t look pleased, but he didn’t challenge her. Interesting. “With Raego bringing you into this, I can’t help but wonder if your loyalties lie with him. If you can be trusted. We can’t have a biased judge.” She did a good job of appearing to be a responsible Council member, with only the best interests of the dragons at heart. Not accusing Raego, but bringing up a valid point.
“This is fucking ridiculous,” I muttered to myself, rolling my eyes.
Raego shrugged, sweeping the Council with a disinterested look. “Then tell her no. I don’t give a shit. I only brought her here because you wanted someone trustworthy. Independent. At least we won’t have to be concerned about her being mentally manipulated as she investigates.”
Silence filled the room as the other dragons considered that. “He has a fair point,” Baron said.
Tory looked over her shoulder at me. “This might take a while, Nate. I’ll see myself home.”
I blinked at her. “You don’t have a car…”
“Raego will arrange for one.” And there wasn’t an ounce of subservience in her tone. Quite the opposite, actually. It hadn’t even been phrased as a request. Raego went entirely still.
I could sense heat rolling off him in waves. I knew he wanted Tory to look into this… theft or whatever, but that didn’t mean he was okay with being disrespected.
He finally hopped off the bar. “It’s your funeral, girl.” And he left. Without me.
; I caught what looked like a brief flash of triumph in Dirty Gerty’s eyes, but she was turning to Tory with an apologetic look before I could confirm it. Tory was playing a dangerous game.
But she would risk anything for the Reds. Even playing Dirty Gerty against Raego, it seemed.
I wasn’t concerned for her immediate safety, because I knew that with a thought, she could have the five Council members simultaneously braiding her hair, feeding her grapes, painting her nails, drawing a bath, and ironing her dress.
But… the dragons knew that, too. They wouldn’t play her game. They would attempt to manipulate her. Use leverage to bend her to their will. Or plant a knife in her ribs when she wasn’t looking.
I was confident Dirty Gerty had plans. Raego had plans. Each Council member had plans.
Tory smiled at the Council. “Now, where were we…”
Callie made her goodbyes as she excused herself from the table, but the Council hardly seemed to notice as they nodded along with Baron Skyfall as he spoke to Tory in a basso rumble. We walked out of the room in silence. I glanced back before the doors closed to see Gertrude studying Tory thoughtfully, as if wondering how best to cook her before eating her.
Seeing my attention, she gave me a sniff of disdain. No love lost there.
We ignored the two guards as we retraced our steps down the hallway in silence. Raego was nowhere in sight, and it looked like we weren’t worthy of a guide any longer.
Putting Tory and the dragons to the back of my mind, I spoke softly to Callie. “The werewolf duel is tomorrow, and we probably need to let Roland know about the Candy Skulls. Make sure he doesn’t decide to go Shadow Walking any time soon.”
In reply, Callie’s face grew suddenly slack, as if only just realizing Roland might be in danger. She stopped abruptly, breathing heavily as her eyes grew distant. Then she flung her hand in front of her with a snarl. A flaming Gateway crackled into existence in the middle of the hallway – in full view of the guards outside the door to the Council. She snatched hold of my wrist and tugged me after her as if we were fleeing an anticipated explosion. I half jogged, half stumbled through the Gateway just as the dragon guards roared behind us, and landed on soft grass outside Chateau Falco. Talon and Carl were bare-chested and sparring under the light of the moon not ten paces away.
The two spun with their blades facing us, jaws set as they stared down the dragons shouting from the other side of the Gateway. Callie let it wink shut as she locked eyes with me. “I’m going to go see if Roland’s back yet.” She patted Talon and Carl on the shoulders before walking back to my mansion at a brisk pace.
Talon and Carl stared at me, the question unspoken but obvious.
“Don’t ask me. I just live here…” I eyed their weapons. “Why are you sparring? It’s nighttime.”
Talon shrugged. “I’m a cat. I’m nocturnal.”
Carl waved his claws at his white scales. “Does it look like I get a lot of sun?”
I sighed. “Keep those blades sharp. We’re leaving soon…” And I told them Death’s message. That it was almost time to go to Hell. Everyone else thought we were taking a quick trip to Fae.
I only needed to keep that secret for a few more days. After that, it wouldn’t matter.
It was late, but I couldn’t sleep yet. I had a few things to do. Regrettable things, but I would pay any price to keep my friends safe. Whether they wanted me to or not. And since I was already planning to go to Hell, I decided there wasn’t much harm in making a deal with a demon.
I just hoped I had time to complete the ritual before the sun rose or I would lose my chance.
“Time to get to work,” I muttered under my breath as I opened another Gateway, ignoring Carl and Talon’s urgent shouting behind me as I stepped into darkness.
I stood cloaked in the shadows of the stygian, abandoned warehouse. These wretched demons preferred the inky darkness. Their crimes could be better hidden. I stared them down with the fury of a pissed-off wizard that had nothing to lose. All I could see of them was a faint reflection in their predatory eyes. “You will listen in silence or I’ll strip the flesh from your bones.”
Their eyes narrowed, with outrage or hesitation, I couldn’t be sure. All I knew was that I couldn’t turn my back on them. And I couldn’t give them an inch or I would be overrun.
I told them what I needed.
After some time, they came to some agreement. “What’s in it for us, wizard?”
I told them.
Even though I couldn’t see anything but their eyes, I could practically feel them salivating with raw hunger. I had offered their favorite form of currency, even though it may cost me my life.
Dealing with these creatures was a last resort, but they were the only ones I could trust.
“Do we have a deal?” I finally asked them.
Their spine-tingling cackle was the only response necessary.
Chapter 13
The wolves had somehow convinced King Midas to host the duel. Since he owned vast tracts of land all over town, he hadn’t had any problems finding a nice, secluded spot for a little bloodshed. He also owned the Dueling Grounds – where Achilles and the Minotaur ran the supernatural Fight Club of St. Louis – so had experience hosting organized fights.
Which really wasn’t much different from a duel.
But as I swept my gaze from left to right, I wondered if it was really distant enough. Because it looked like we were hosting a charity marathon.
Hundreds of people milled about the small valley tucked between wooded hills somewhere in the northern section of Midas’ farm – an expansive tract of woodlands and pasture.
I’d been walking around, getting a feel for the place, and wishing I had grabbed a coffee thermos. I’d spotted a bleary-eyed Tory a while ago and waved at her, hoping to get some details on her night. She had calmly walked up, slapped me hard in the face, and warned me never to lie to her again before storming away. From that encounter, I somehow surmised that she had learned of Alucard’s meeting last night and hadn’t been happy with me for keeping it from her.
She hadn’t even bothered to ask me about the Reds, but they were wandering around here somewhere. I had seen them when I first arrived, sitting in the grass with Yahn. I decided not to warn them about Tory’s temper, but maybe they already knew because they had avoided me.
I was still wandering around, growing impatient, when I saw Callie approach Tory. I realized I had slowed, smiling in anticipation of the oncoming slap. But much to my dismay, the two spoke for a few seconds before wandering off together, hugging like old friends. I scowled, rubbing my cheek as I swept the valley, focusing on the werewolves.
Gunnar and Ashley’s pack had broken down into what looked like highly disorganized pockets and huddles. But if you knew what to look for, it was actually kind of alarming. Each wolf – also called a claw – actually belonged to a predetermined group – or paw – of five wolves. Furthermore, each paw was partnered with three others, making a ghost.
Five claws made up a paw, and four paws made up a ghost – twenty wolves.
Ashley had taught it to them once it became apparent that the pack was getting too large to easily coordinate during times of war. Like with an army, discipline and order saved lives. These smaller, lightning-fast units were both incredibly nimble to maneuver, and easy to bunch together if necessary. It was much more efficient than a few hundred wolves running around chaotically.
There were at least twenty Ghosts – four hundred werewolves – loosely arranged around half of the make-shift ring where Gunnar and Zeus would fight. Some of these Ghosts were human while others were wolf, also seemingly at random.
I was pretty sure it was organized chaos. It was obvious that none had chosen to switch sides.
Light rain began to fall. I glared up at the clouds, realizing I had left my umbrella near my seat with Alucard and Roland. I was tired, feeling particularly useless, and obviously grumpy, thanks to Tory, so I used my magic to create a trans
parent dome that I let hover over my head. The water struck it and rolled off, leaving me perfectly dry. Whenever anyone nearby noticed, I shot them a very dark grin until they ran away with their tail tucked between their legs.
Literally or figuratively – since many of the attendees were in wolf form.
I glanced at Zeus’ pack of a hundred wolves. It seemed he had exaggerated last night, or hadn’t realized how big Gunnar’s pack actually was. In contrast with the St. Louis wolves, they sat in neat, orderly rows like they were gearing up for a Colonial musket battle. They all faced forward towards the ring. The three rows closest to the ring were wolves, the next few rows were kneeling humans, and the rest of the pack stood behind them.
And for the most part, they didn’t make a noise.
Like they had all been bred in some science lab or military school. Maybe they were just that scared of their boss. Othello had done some research on Zeus Fletcher, but she hadn’t come up with anything that useful. He seemed to be one of those ex-military, private types – living on a hill in the middle of the woods with trip-wires surrounding his cabin full of guns.
The non-wolf attendees were careful not to wade too deep into either pack, respecting the imaginary lines that marked each territory.
But Talon, being a raging dick, walked over to Zeus’ pack, picked a nearby spot in full view of them all, and pissed on a tree. Carl stood a few yards back, staring down the wolves the entire time. Talon shook twice before lowering his kilt, and then the crazy bastard pawed his boots in the dirt before walking away, like a cat cleaning his litterbox. Carl kept staring at the wolves as he held up his claw for Talon to high five him. Only then did they turn and walk away.
Nine Souls: A Nate Temple Supernatural Thriller Book 9 (The Temple Chronicles) Page 7