by Jenn Stark
“Agreed,” Max said. “And he’s going to need some clothes.”
Between us, Kreios sighed heavily. “I’ll be all right in another minute. The glamour is not a difficult effect to reconstruct.”
“I’ve got a better idea,” I said.
Chapter Thirteen
Coming up out from the depths of the abbey into the gift shop a few minutes after Max slipped up the stairs, I kept my head bowed, my eyes on the shuffling form that preceded me down the narrow aisle. The irony of the Devil wrapped up in clerical clothes wasn’t lost on me. Fortunately, the woman at the cash register wasn’t paying attention to us but to the elderly couple buying postcards, so we got out into the sunshine without incident.
“There’s a bench to the right, three—well, maybe five paces, the way you’re walking now.”
“Always so critical.” For all his bravado, though, the Devil wasn’t looking so good. He sank down on the bench like a man fifty years past dead. I perched beside him, arranging his elbows on his knees, lacing his fingers together so that he almost gave the appearance of being lost in contemplative prayer.
“Wanna tell me how you ended up in Barnabus’s bed?”
His chuckle was his only response for a moment, and I stared diligently at the side of his head, willing his secrets to spring forth.
Who is this guy, really?
Aleksander Kreios appeared foreign born, just as the Magician was, but their similarities ended there. Well, some of them, anyway. As golden as the Magician was dark, Kreios sported a shock of sandy blond hair drifting over his lightly tanned skin. His large, sensuous eyes were jade green, his body sleekly built. The combination of high cheekbones and sculpted lips looked almost too perfect on a man, but the sexual aggression that lay barely restrained in the guy’s every move transcended everything as his defining characteristic. Even if he was practically dead at this point.
Which begged the question, why hadn’t Armaeus warned me that I’d be carrying around canned Master-of-Darkness?
I hit him up with the obvious question. “Why’d you come here?”
“That’s not necessary for you to know.”
“Uh-huh. You want me to include this little side trip in my report to Armaeus?”
“Only if you want to risk my annoyance.”
I eyed him. “Not gonna lie, that doesn’t seem like too much of a threat right now.”
The laugh seemed dredged up out of Kreios’s stomach, a rasping huff. “I can see why Armaeus never bothered to arrange an introduction between us. Where have you been all of my lives, Sara Wilde?”
“Just focus on breathing, big boy.” I squinted down the long cobbled street, praying for Max to hurry it up. “So walk me through this. Who picked you up at the Alfa Romeo dumping ground? Why did you come here?”
“Those were my associates.” Full stop.
“You’re not very good at this, you know. Where’d they go?”
Kreios lifted a hand to wave me off, but I batted it away. “Tell me, or I’ll call the Magician on the batphone. I have to assume he’s got family out here.”
The Devil sighed heavily. “I did not bring my friends into the city. This is only partially their fight.”
“Yet they handed you over, gift wrapped, to Barnabus? Because it sure seemed like he was expecting you.”
I could see Kreios’s smile in profile. It was not a particularly good smile.
“‘Cowards die many deaths.’” He gestured to the street. “This place—it belongs to an extension of his family. He considers its inner workings his own. It was reasonable that this was where he would go to ground.”
“Yeah, well, he was wearing a Templar robe, Kreios, and it looked like the real deal. I thought that order died out oh, about eight hundred years ago.”
“The Templars still have a robust following.”
“Yeah, well, so do skinheads. Doesn’t make it cool.” I waited a beat. “So you came here because he was the one who’d stuck you in that box in the first place, and you knew this was where he’d gone to ground. Did you also know he’d have the helmet of doom waiting for you?”
Kreios coughed again. More blood trickled from his lips. He ignored it. “That was an underestimation on my part.”
“How’d he get you in the helmet?”
“The moment I entered the abbey, he piped the noise at a frequency higher than human hearing. I wasn’t prepared.” He straightened with obvious effort. “I will be henceforth.” He lifted a hand to forestall my next question. “Budapest was also a miscalculation. It’s been a long time since I faced a worthy opponent.” His smile flashed. “Rest assured, I’ve had sufficient time beneath the basilica to contemplate my sins.”
“Okay.” I blew out a long breath. “You go to Budapest, get ambushed by SANCTUS. How’d they get you in the box?” The answer flickered in my subcortex as I asked it. “It’s the pain, isn’t it. With enough pain, you wink out.” He didn’t answer, and I grinned. “I’m totally going to force you to binge watch the Kardashians, to see if we can try this at home.”
His coughing spasm got worse, but I forged ahead. “Why the Templars, though? What beef do they have with the Council? I thought they were good guys.”
The Devil’s snort was derisive. “There is no mortal who is purely good, Sara Wilde. But the Templars are not the only group trying to find a balance with the members of SANCTUS. The entire Connected community is on edge. The Templars merely acted first. Unwisely, as now they will be decimated. Again.”
“Right.” I patted him on the back, allowing him his bravado even as he wheezed. At length, Max drove up, once more in his spiffy uniform and hat. I was a big fan of the hat. I was yet more of a fan of the way he hopped out of the car and hustled around, hoisting up Kreios’s gravity-defying weight as I struggled on the other side. Together, we got the Devil into the back of the car, and I scooted around to the other side.
“Destination?”
“Ciampino Airport.” I frowned. “Has your car been LoJacked by Mr. Mephistopheles?”
“It was.” Max smiled. “Then I moved the monitor to one of the limo service’s other vehicles. This one is clean.”
“I knew I liked you.”
Kreios sighed beside me. “If we could start moving, that would be ideal.”
The Devil was slumped back in his the seat, but he wasn’t the Devil I’d hauled out of the abbey like a refugee from a Filene’s Basement sale. “So what was the point of Barnabus shaving you can do that?”
Kreios shrugged. His hair had already grown an inch, and somewhere along the line he’d either stolen or manifested sunglasses. Still in his cassock, he looked like some kind of rock-star priest, the poster child for Catholic cool. “It gave him something to do that didn’t actually cause me pain, so I was happy to oblige him.” He straightened a little in his seat, wincing against the movement.
“You’re kind of freaking me out right now with all the pain emoting,” I said. “I didn’t know you guys could get hurt.”
“If by ‘you guys’ you mean the council, then once again I am sorry to disappoint you. We can be hurt. We can be killed. Why do you think we need to keep tabs on the Connected? When we have to replenish our ranks, we are generally not in the mood for that process to take a great deal of time.”
“Fair enough.” I knew Max was listening avidly from the front of the car, but I didn’t care. If this much crazy was coming after the Connected, we needed to be prepared. All of us. No matter who we had in our family tree. “We going to be followed?”
“Doubtful. Barnabus won’t want to advertise his failure, and without his leverage,” Kreios tapped his head, “he won’t try again. Better to keep the blame for losing me firmly on SANCTUS’s military force.”
“What about his Templar den mates?”
“I doubt their leadership knew of his plan. Certainly not the execution of it. We…” He winced again, shifting in his seat. “We go back a long way.”
Oh? “Are they…affilia
ted with the council?”
“When they have reason to be.” Kreios lifted a hand. “Silence, Sara Wilde. I am afraid the sonic attacks leveled upon me were more robust than I would have given them credit for. I will need time to address the damage.”
I scooted back to my side of the car. “No sweat. I’ll just play Candy Crush over here.”
My phone jangled in my pocket. Which was a problem, since it was set to silent.
Pulling it out, I scowled down. A text from Armaeus. Apparently, he’d reached an altitude where the combination of water and distance wasn’t screwing with his senses anymore…or he’d asked someone to check in with air traffic control.
Why aren’t you en route?
I shrugged and nudged Kreios’s arm, lifting the phone so that it reflected off his mirrored sunglasses. “You want to answer that?”
“It will be my pleasure.”
Dutifully, I punched in Armaeus’s digits. The call rang through, and, as usual, Armaeus didn’t keep me waiting. As the call was picked up, my phone slipped out of my hand, leaving nothing behind but a shiver of promise, like a mild electrical charge against my fingertips. Kreios was clearly on his way to finding his happy place once more.
“Armaeus,” Kreios said in his luxuriously sensual voice, his eyes steady on me as I shook out my hand. “Look what you have brought me.”
I rolled my eyes as he settled back in his seat. “We are on our way to the airport now.” More listening. “I was in slightly worse than anticipated shape. It’s taken a while for me to recover.” More listening. “But of course.” He glanced back at me, his eyes unreadable behind the reflective lenses of his glasses, his smile wolfish. “She has been with me the whole time. She has proven most useful. You were right to send her.” I could hear the sharpness of Armaeus’s retort, then Kreios slipped into a language I had no knowledge of—something that didn’t sound remotely European.
I shook my head, irritated, but more with myself than the council. My laissez faire attitude about information gathering wasn’t going to work with this crew. I couldn’t deal with Armaeus, not if there were twenty other potential demigods lurking in the shadows, whether current or planned. As it was, I barely knew a few of the council members.
The Fool was a reasonable enough sort, kind of like Loki’s nerdy younger cousin, with an affinity for fast cars and faster tech. I’d met him once when the Magician had been too busy to track me down himself. He’d sent his message via the Fool without warning me. The Fool had delivered it to me, catching up with me in LA right after I’d delivered another job, but he hadn’t come clean about his purpose until we’d shared a very expensive bottle of tequila and had ended up poolside of a celebutante who kept calling him Luscious. I still wasn’t sure about the provenance of the name Luscious, but anyone who can keep down half a fifth of hundred-dollar reposado was okay by me.
The High Priestess was completely on the other end of the spectrum, haughty and lovely, with long dark hair, flashing dark eyes, and an ability to whine that was almost a superpower unto itself. She had joined the council fairly recently, I got the feeling. But with these guys, that could mean any time after 1950.
And that was, well, it. I had a vague sense of the Emperor and Empress skulking about in Sin City, but I’d never picked up a clue about the Devil. How could I have missed someone so…unmissable?
I stared out the window as the landscape whipped by. At length, Kreios ended his call and tossed the phone on the seat between us. I left it there. I didn’t feel like touching the guy again, and something about this entire operation was beginning to sit wrong with me. I was beginning to think it had been Armaeus’s plan all along to con me into getting sucked into the council’s business. And I really wasn’t in the mood.
We reached the Ciampino Airport and turned onto the private airstrip. A gleaming white airplane rested alone at the head of it, pointed out toward the far horizon. On its tail, a corporate looking logo of a blue dragon bracketed by two arching red flames was the only marking I could see. Kreios, in a burst of newfound energy, was out of the car before Max had even fully parked it. A second later, I realized why. In his hand he held the reliquary. How had he…
I shook my head. I needed to pay closer attention to these freaks.
“He looks like he’s going to be okay.”
“Yep.” I eyed Max’s reflection. “What about you? You gonna get in trouble for your little side trip?”
“Doubtful. Bottom line, you were attacked, and your cargo was taken from you. Since you were honor bound to go after it, I was honor bound to protect you while you did so. In the end, I safely returned you to the airstrip that had been your original destination, and waited around until you were safely on your way. Mission Complêt.”
“Right.” Together we watched Kreios disappear around the back of the plane, holding the gold box aloft as if trying to examine it from all angles. I wasn’t feeling too good about that box’s chances of making it to Vegas in one piece. I flipped open my phone and was relieved to find the tracking device secure. I was pretty sure Armaeus wanted to examine the reliquary, but I suspected that Kreios wasn’t too keen on keeping it around. I’d let them figure that out.
I returned my attention to Max. “So, where will you go from here? Back to the limo service?”
“I think no. I’ve been shuttling around guests of le seigneur for the past five years. Never has it been more interesting than today, and today is not yet done. This man called Barnabus, he disappeared on my watch. He was hurt, at a minimum.” Max gave a long, heartfelt sigh, then winked at me. “I feel badly about that. He may need a ride somewhere safe.”
I lifted my brows. “Uh-huh. And you’re just the guy to help him with that?”
He grinned. “I live to serve. At the very least, I can pick up his trail and see where he goes from here. Who knows? Maybe he’ll let me join his secret club.”
“Or maybe he’ll kill you. Which wouldn’t be nearly as fun.”
“It would certainly make for a diverting afternoon, though.” Max patted his limo. “It’s time I broadened my horizons.”
I blew out a long breath. I couldn’t let this guy just hare off after a nutcase, but it was clear he needed to do something. And driving tourists around in his limo wasn’t going to cut it, not after today. “So what’s your kink, Max? What psy power do you actually possess?”
He frowned. “I don’t. I told you—“
“Riiight.” Armaeus was going to be pissed, but the Connected had to stick together. And if there was ever a man gifted at discerning the talents of an untutored psy… “I tell you what. Why don’t you go to Paris instead—no, not to your family, though if you do, give Claire my love. We’re besties. But I really would rather you go to the Cathedral of Saint-Germaine-des-Prés. There’s a priest named Father Jerome. Tell him I sent you.”
Max’s eyes lit up. “And what is the reason I should give?”
“Tell him you’re ready to join the team.”
Chapter Fourteen
We said our good-byes, then I exited the limo, patting its flank like it was a good pony as Max drove off. Then I turned toward the sleek aircraft that awaited me. Kreios was nowhere to be seen, but I climbed the long stairway alone, nodding toward the woman who stood at its top. She was perhaps the most attractive flight attendant in the history of aviation. Figured.
The jet Armaeus had commissioned for this jaunt was sleek and well equipped, and apparently came with enough money to expedite minor inconveniences such as identity checks and customs management. The attendant followed me into the cabin and began to describe the plane to me in a silken, heavily accented voice. Then Kreios appeared, and the woman’s head completely separated from her body. Oh, boy. This’ll take a while.
While the attendant tried to recover her capacity for speech, I wandered over to the bar, pulling out a bottle of water and listening to the captain crackling instructions over the intercom. Taking one of the overstuffed captain’s chairs, I watched
Kreios discuss the upcoming flight with his newest convert.
Eventually, of course, she had to go back and do her actual job. Kreios ambled over, looking entirely too smug as he sprawled in his own seat. I’d sat across from the Magician just the day before in almost identical positions, of course. But while Armaeus had breathed refinement and control, the quintessential European aristocrat, the Devil was like a half-drunk frat boy, lounging with one leg over the arm of the plush leather seat, his body canted back, his gaze several shades too contented.
“How long is the flight?”
“Twelve hours, give or take,” he said. “Armaeus has a several-hour head start on us, but I’m sure he’ll be eager to see you again.”
I looked at him, my curiosity finally getting its moment in the sun. “So, before we go further: you’re not the actual devil, right?”
“A matter of semantics, I suspect.”
“Uh-huh. And what exactly was SANCTUS hoping to do with you—or Barnabus, for that matter? Because they had to keep you alive for some reason, and I don’t think it’s because of your sterling personality.”
“So quickly does the rose turn to thorn.” Kreios shrugged. “But it is a worthy story, and since Armaeus did not see fit to share it with you, I shall. I was heading to Hungary quite some time ago, if it is truly now late spring…?”
I nodded, and he continued. “On very good information from a man who, while not a friend, precisely, had certainly never been my enemy before now.”
“Barnabas.”
“No. I’d contacted Barnabus after receiving the information about Hungary. He was to help facilitate my meetings there. Barnabus was also, up to this point, someone I did not consider an enemy. It seems my trust has been very misplaced of late.”
“Yeah, you might want to work on that.” I considered his words. Hungary had become a hotbed for the underground antiquities market over the past few years, but I’d managed to avoid the place so far. And the country was too far east for its lost children to find their way onto Father Jerome’s list. Though based on the map I’d seen at Armaeus’s family homestead, we should be paying more attention to those children, and pronto. Their value was definitely heating up. “What’s in Hungary?”