Kali Sweet Series, Three Urban Fantasy Novels (Boxed Set)

by Misty Evans

  He seemed surprised I didn’t know this. “Sì. Your mother was a Sibyl.”

  “A what?”

  “A Sibyl. A Greek prophetess who uttered divine revelations in a frenzied state.”

  I knew what a Sibyl was, but the very thought was preposterous. My mother had been a simple, low-level demon with few skills and even less magic.

  Cole cared little about my past. He was ready for action. “So where is the book her father wrote?”

  “Appartamento pontificio,” Reese said.

  I was still mentally stuck on my mother being a Seer, but like Cole, I was ready to get the show on the road. Only ‘the show’ appeared more and more impossible. Surprise tightened my voice. “The Pope’s private chambers?”

  “He, like the heads of the Church before him, store certain documents and heretic texts in a special safe hidden in the papal chapel. The safe exists behind a painting of the Black Madonna of Czestochowa.”

  Salmad crossed himself. Three times. I have to admit, I added my own mamma mia to the heavy pause. Cole was the only who seemed unfazed. “And what makes you believe her dad’s stuff is stored there?”

  The kettle whistled. Father Reese gave a knowing smile, eyes flashing with a conspiratorial light. “Because her father, John of Patmos, wrote the Book of Revelation based on her mother’s prophesies. Prophesies the Church has held a tight rein on since the time of Christ.”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  A familiar ache set up shop inside my chest as images of my parents floated in front of me. This was all too weird and almost…blasphemous.

  My parents and my sister died because of me. Because I wasn’t there to protect them the night the Nocts came for them. Listening to the priest make wild claims about my mother and father felt as if I were dishonoring their memory.

  I snorted in disbelief to cover my vulnerability. As Reese made his way to the kettle and poured tea, I asked, “What have you been smoking, padre? My father lived in the 1800s and was murdered along with my mother and sister by Noctifectors. The queen of the supernatural court, Queen Maria, set the whole thing up. My mother wasn’t a Sibyl demon and mio papá definitely did not write the Book of Revelation.”

  The priest appeared unruffled. He brought mugs of steaming tea to the table for all of us and returned to stand at the sink with his. “How much do you know about your parents, soldato della notte?”

  Soldier of the night. Wasn’t that cute. The priest had given me a nickname.

  It had only been a few months since Lucifer had told me I was one of the original sins. I doubted anything Reese said would surprise me more than that, especially since he appeared to enjoy making shit up. So even though I didn’t have time for a family history lesson, I decided to give him some rope and listen to his ridiculous theories about my parents. “Go ahead, padre. Shock me. What do you know about them?”

  The mocking tone in my voice made him smile ever so slightly. “When Jesus cast you and the other sins from Mary Magdalena, you were granted human form. Except in His infinite wisdom, He decreed that all seven of you should not walk the earth at the same time because of the immense damage you could do to humanity. You, the woman you call Maria, and you—” he pointed at Salmad, “—were not allowed to live in human form. You were put in purgatory in a soul-only state—a type of stasis—for over a thousand years, only taking the earthly place of one of your brethren as Jesus deemed suitable.

  “The three of you did not walk the earth until the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Kali, you were born to Goffredo and Rachele, who escaped prosecution in Greece centuries before and settled in Rome under new identities. Your father was determined to retrieve the Sibylline Oracles from the Church. He also planned to save the other texts left out of the Biblical Cannons, such as the Life of Adam and Eve, the Psalms of Solomon and the Assumption of Moses. These texts and others are considered Biblical Pseudepigrapha—religious literature written between 200 BC and 200 AD and falsely attributed to another author, which in most religions renders them suspect. He managed to secure a couple of the texts, but not all, and not the oracles your mother had provided.”

  Through this Salmad inhaled his tea. He set down the cup, rubbed a hand over his peach fuzz. “All of those texts are or have been hidden in the Pope’s chapel?”

  Reese nodded. “Many have been allowed into mainstream academia, but only to keep those who seek the truth…how should I say it…mollified. As is always the case with the Holy Catholic Church, they allow enough access and information to the public to appear helpful, but in reality, they hide much more than they share. For instance, the Book of Revelation, like the Book of Genesis, gives us only a taste of the truth. Eve’s rendition of The Fall would be heresy in today’s religious world.”

  Questions sprinted through my brain, but I was quite simply speechless. Reese had done what I’d asked…he’d shocked me. Not about the Church withholding documents from the public, but about my parents. What else didn’t I know?

  Reese read the look on my face and supplied the answer. “The revelations John of Patmos transcribed in the Book of Revelation were based on your mother’s visions. But there is more than one book. There are, in fact, three in sum. The first one is found in part in the King James Version of the Bible, but the second, which describes the necessary measures to stop the Whore of Babylon and the Beast, and a third, which reveals the whereabouts of a divine army who would assist those on earth to stop the apocalypse are hidden in the papal chapel.”

  I finally found my tongue. “How is it you know all of this?”

  Again he offered me that slight smile. “Because I’ve seen it.”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  “You’ve been in the papal apartments? In the chapel?” Sal seemed more astounded by this than my parents’ history or real identities. “I worked inside the Vatican for twenty years and never entered them.”

  A faint charge of supernatural energy wafted into the room. The Merc demon followed, dressed in loose black clothing that hid an assortment of weapons. “Ready to rock?”

  “Yeah.” Cole stood, gave the kid a nod. The War demon wanted to get the show on the road and seemed to accept the Merc without any hesitation. “Will you use the catacombs to get in?”

  Reese set down his tea. “There are many tunnels under Vatican City. We will use the catacombs and an evacuation tunnel of the Pope’s. He uses it in case of emergency to access his apartments.”

  “How will we do that?” Sal asked, echoing my thoughts.

  “The Pope is served by four lay members of the Memores Domini. All four women are friends of mine.”

  There was a slight pause on friends. Because of my recent encounter with Damon’s past lover, I immediately surmised the priest wasn’t all that priestly, but who was I to throw stones?

  “The two of us—” Cole waggled a finger between him and the Merc demon, “—can only accompany you to the catacombs. Who’ll watch your back after that?”

  “There are many areas under Rome no longer consecrated, demon, even though they house Christian and Jewish remains. Too much unholy blood has been shed above and below these spots over centuries of persecution and secret murders. That is how I’ve been able to assist supernaturals fleeing the Vatican’s secret prison under the city. You and my assistant, here, will be able to accompany us until we reach the papal apartments. My friends there will assist our mission and we will return to you at the entrance with the credos Kali seeks.”

  “I’m more worried about Kali than the books,” Cole said. “Just so we’re clear.”

  The War demon’s intensity seemed to surprise Reese, much like my lack of knowledge about my parents. “Non si preoccupi. I will keep her safe.”

  Cole’s look suggested that’s what he was afraid of. I gave him a slight shake of me head. Down, boy. “We need entry and exit strategies. And how are we going to open the safe?”

  Reese’s face firmed. “I am your entry and exit strategy. I assumed you could open the
safe with your…powers of magic.”

  “I missed the Safe Cracking 101 class in school but I might be able to pull something off. What kind of safe is it?”

  “Borgdona gifted one of its Zero safes to the Pope recently. It is said to be cracking and fire resistant.”

  Great. A luxury safe only millionaires could afford. But then, the Church was a billionaire.

  I thought about it for a moment. I rarely channeled magic into anything other than protecting myself, but a demon’s energy came from the earth. A safe was simply a set of earth’s resources molded by human hands. No magical barriers, no hexes, no supernatural energy of any kind.

  At least I hoped. “Resistant is the key word. Any safe I can touch, I can probably open.”

  Reese nodded and bade us follow him. We clomped downstairs, where he retrieved his coat and hat. “The Pope takes morning Mass in the chapel in two hours. We’ll wish to have the documents and make our exit before then.”

  Two hours. Cole set the timer on his watch. I set my internal timer.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Early European peoples buried their dead in underground chambers. Romans preferred cremation, but eventually succumbed to burial when Christianity became popular. Christians believe in the Second Coming of Christ and want their body to be reunited with its soul when that happens.

  There are nearly a hundred known underground catacombs in Rome, many used by the persecuted Christians of old to bury their dead in secret. Jews and others used the catacombs and underground tunnels as well.

  And they weren’t always used for burials. Memorials were performed, persecuted sects hid in the tight tunnels, and even a few pagans along the way used the ground, bones and blood for performing ceremonies. Numerous passages and extensive galleries depicting the life of martyrs were built on top of each other. The wall graves carved into the ground served as mausoleum, church and art gallery.

  Maintenance of the catacombs lies with the papacy.

  As with so many other areas, the Church decided which ones to open to the public and which to keep off limits. From the basement of Reese’s religious bookstore, we entered one I was sure was not only off limits, but didn’t exist even on the Pope’s extensive map of the underground tunnels.

  Flashlights in hand, the five of us moved quickly. Which was a shame once we passed under St. Peter’s. The art on some of the slabbed tombs our lights flashed across was medieval but fascinating. Frescos of biblical stories, like the fish and the loaves. Martyrs. The poor, the sick, the holy and not so holy…all were saints here.

  Out of the corners of my eyes, shadows hunched and skittered around. The scent of unconsecrated ground teased my nose. Bloodshed. Black magic. Sulfur.

  Demons had been raised here. Demons still existed.

  I’d already locked in my shields, but it didn’t stop the call of the unholy from warming my blood. My demon hummed, reaching out for the magic pulsing this deep underground. The seeping walls carried more than rain water runoff. They carried the tang of death and my demon lapped it up.

  The energy ebbed and flowed. I shuddered in its wake, usually warm from my elevated temperature, but in here, my bones were ice cold. Consecrated tombs pushed me away; others pulled me to them like steel to a magnet. The Merc demon led our conga line; Cole brought up the rear. The two priests sandwiched me, but even their holy auras did little to stop the evil coming up from the ground. It clawed at me, making my stomach churn.

  The floor seemed to blur under my feet. Was it the shadows playing tricks on me or the demons who lived here? I blinked, blinked again. Pressure filled my lungs.

  Maybe it was due to the smell. The bodies were long past the decay stage, but the bones emitted a certain smell as well. Mixed with the dank, moldy water and wet stone, it was enough to make anyone sick to their stomach.

  I covertly checked my companions. None of them showed any distress.

  Taking a deep breath, I tried to concentrate on something else. Anything. I turned Damon’s predicament over in my mind, but found I had no real feelings about it. Odd, but true. I attempted to come up with a reason Ranulf had seemingly changed his stripes, and again, found I didn’t give a damn.

  Uh-oh. The old Kali—the one who had lived under Maria’s firm rule all those years ago—was resurfacing. Once Maria stripped me away from my parents, I’d shut off all emotion. Shut off logical thought. I’d lived to avoid her abuse and make her happy. What remained was a demon with a hard-on for vengeance and nothing else.

  The thought overwhelmed me. I stopped short and laid a hand on the nearest wall grave to keep from losing my balance. Big mistake. The evil energy trapped there clawed at my hand, grabbing onto it and charging through my skin.

  The shock was so strong I yelped, my voice echoing off the tunnels low ceiling. I had the vague awareness of Cole and the others crowding around me and asking me questions, but all I saw and felt was darkness. Consuming, heartless and entirely demon.

  No, no, no.

  My demon danced with the evil, drawing the magic into her like water through a straw. My shields should have kept it out, but they seemed to do the opposite, wrenching it toward me. Absorbing it and begging for more.

  Fight it!

  My lip curled as I steeled my blood, my body and my magic. Light flared around my peripheral vision. The scar on my neck from Dru’s original bite heated abruptly, as if he’d seared me with a brand.

  “Break…the…seal,” I ground out between clenched teeth. I tasted blood. Must have bitten my tongue as I spoke. “My hand…from…the wall.”

  Cole reached out to grab me, but Sal said, “Wait. Look.”

  With great effort, I ignored the demon rising inside me and turned to where he pointed.

  There on the wall, a thousand pinpricks of light glowed forming a wheel pattern that started at my palm and reached outward in all directions. The lights twinkled, giving the illusion of seven rays, each one ending in a rune. Old Latin was written along the lines. Magical symbols were grouped in threes between them.

  “I know that symbol.” Salmad unbuttoned the upper half of his wool cloak, revealing his chest. The words and runes I’d long ago carved into his skin reflected light from the glowing stones. “It’s what you branded me with.”

  Reese’s brows shot up to his hairline. He shown his flashlight on Sal’s chest, then read the stones. “The words are similar, but not the same.” He moved closer to me and adjusted his light. “I, master of vengeance, conceal here runes of virtue, power and resurrection. Cleanse this maleficence ground with goodness. Reject any insidious death. I am the way of hope. Vengeance is mine.”

  “What does it mean?” Cole asked.

  Reese’s flashlight shifted to illuminate my face. His eyes snapped with indignation. “You’ve been here before,” he accused.

  The evil was still coursing through my body and his human flesh made me lick my lips. I met his gaze, my demon peeking through without my consent. “Never.”

  He started at the sight of my demon, but his focus returned to the light show. “Then it could only be Raguel.”

  The Merc demon, who’d been quiet until now, eyed me with curiosity. “Is that some kind of female disease?”

  “No.” Sal’s tone was clipped. “Raguel, also known as Rufael and Akrasiel, is one of the seven archangels found in the Book of Enoch—another of the cannons not found in any modern-day Bible. He’s the angel of justice, fairness and harmony.”

  “The angel of vengeance,” Reese added, almost in awe as he traced the flickering lights and runes while keeping an eye on me. Dropping his hand, he met my gaze, this time with a smile. “Your heavenly counterpart.”

  I was going to show him heaven if he didn’t step back. Although technically, hell was more like it. “Break. The. Damn. Connection.”

  Cole responded, grabbing my arm and wrenching. Did no good. I was stuck.

  “Sorry about this.” He slipped a large silver knife from inside his coat and slid it between my
palm and the stones.

  Burned my skin, but did the trick, searing the earth magic on one side and my demonic magic on the other. I sank into Sal’s arms for a minute, willing my normal, controlled self back online. The churning in my gut continued, but I focused on the one thing I knew would clear my mind of all the other thoughts pounding in my head.

  Rad.

  Closing my eyes, I reached for him, knowing there was no way he could feel me, but not caring. In my mind, I heard his voice singing to me. My lips tingled with an imagined kiss. I rubbed my hands together, feeling instead the callused skin of his guitar-playing fingers.

  Another shiver. This one full of emotions I wanted to feel. The haunting evil in the catacombs receded. Renewed strength flowed into my limbs. “I’m fine,” I told the males around me, their auras suggesting they thought otherwise.

  Reese gave me a thorough once over, reevaluating his opinion of me. “Divine order.”

  “What does that mean?” My shoulders ached from a tension not even thoughts of Rad could relieve.

  “Raguel brings all angels, even the archangels, to account for their misdeeds, especially with humans. You, Kali Sweet, bring supernaturals to account for the same.”

  I needed a drink. I looked at Cole and Sal. Both shrugged.

  “Don’t you see? You’re part of divine order.” Reese’s smile grew and so did the awe in his aura. “You really will stop the apocalypse from happening.”

  I huffed, once again shutting the door on my demon and straightening my cape. “Not if we don’t get those books, padre. Let’s go.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Reese led us through a maze. The tunnels grew narrower and deeper. At one point, we were forced to crawl through a tight opening hidden behind a grave marker. The grave was empty and had long ago lost its original dimensions as people burrowed from one passageway to another. I had to remove my cape full of weapons to squeeze through.