by Misty Evans
And that’s what it was. A show.
I did my part by cursing Lucifer in Italian, English and the bit of French I’d learned from Rad. The oppressive feeling disappeared, leaving a sticky, oily sensation on my skin. A sensation even lye soap wouldn’t clean off.
My phone buzzed. Gah, Kirill. “Sorry, Kirill. I’ve been tied up with Lucifer.”
No answer. Nothing but air. I pressed the phone closer to my ear, leaving the windswept roof to go back inside.
In the quiet interior of the building, no sound came from the other end of our connection, not even someone breathing. But the line was open, I was sure of that.
Not good. Whatever Kirill was into, he couldn’t talk and he needed help.
I spoke just above a whisper. “I’m on my way home, Kirill. Press one for yes, that’s where you are, or two for no, I shouldn’t go there.”
A second passed. Sweat broke out along my hairline. Come on, come on. Give me some kind of clue.
I was about to issue a different verbal command when I heard the slightest noise. Kirill shifting ever so slightly.
Beep.
One. I waited.
Only one.
“Okay. Hang on. I’m coming.”
I ran all out, down the stairs, through the hallways, nearly knocking Lainie over in my haste. “Sorry!” I called as I blew past her.
Dru was in Damon’s office with Cole. Damon was MIA.
“He said he had something to do,” Dru said when I asked where Damon was. “Said he wouldn’t be back for a while.”
Damn. Nothing I could do about it now. Cole nodded at the phone in my hand. “What is it?”
Taking a deep breath, I tried to calm my racing heart. Parker’s dagger grew heavy inside my cape pocket.
“Show time,” I said. “Pestilence is waiting.”
Chapter Forty-one
Strategy is seeing the end goal, the finish line, and working backwards.
In order to do that, preparation is key. Know your enemy, know yourself. Damon had taught me well.
I’d had little time to prep for my meeting with the Red Horseman, but I’d had three hundred years of experience fighting supernaturals.
I’d also had a boatload of Damon’s teachings jammed into my head, and Cole’s fighting techniques beat into my muscles.
Initially my goal was to destroy Pestilence. After much deliberation on the way over, I’d changed the end goal to capturing him. If I could take him alive, he might pony up valuable information. He might be a commodity to trade for.
Either way, heaven would take notice.
I planned to capture him on my own, no backup necessary. Plans go astray in battle, so on my orders, Cole and Dru sent out the word to the vampire troops, the vitiums, and the Institute’s soldiers. All hands on deck. It annoyed me to admit I might need their help, but this was the first step in our war against heaven. I wouldn’t risk losing this one to satisfy my prideful ego.
It began to sleet before we reached my place. Cole stopped the car two blocks away for recon. He, Dru and I circled the church and took up positions on the north, south and west sides. I itched to run in and attack Pest in order to save Kirill. Instead, I watched silently from my hidden spot in the cemetery while sleet caught in my hair, melted, and ran down the back of my neck. Within a minute, I was soaked to the bone.
The church sat desolate and seemingly empty. No movement past the windows. No sounds or smells coming from the interior. I lowered my shields and opened my senses wide.
As a precaution, I had multiple layers of magical security as well as a high-tech human security system. It took time for me to weed my way through the magical layers, lowering the house’s defenses without setting off any alarms.
Hang in there, Kirill. Busting in with guns blazing might put him in more danger than he already was. It certainly would put me in danger. I worried little about what was waiting for me, but I wouldn’t risk Kirill’s life on top of it.
After ten minutes of watching and waiting, I was running out of patience. The ghosts in the cemetery clung to me, their evil energy pressing on me and making me irritable. They messed with magic, calling it out to play. Keeping my focus on the church, I sensed a supernatural presence inside…
Only one and very, very weak.
Kirill.
My stomach churned. What the hell had happened?
I used the comm link in my ear to connect with Cole and Dru. “I’m going in.”
Cole’s voice argued. “Backup’s not here yet. Hold your position.”
Damon would have agreed. I mulled the advice over, found I couldn’t sit still any longer. “Target is not inside. I repeat, Pestilence is not inside. Injured party is. I’m going in.”
“I’ll accompany you,” Dru said, his voice calm and reassuring in my ear. My blood did a happy dance. “I’ll approach from the south.”
“Wait ’til I’ve breached the entrance in case it’s booby trapped.”
“Copy that.” He paused. “Be careful.”
Cole huffed. “Could be a trap. I’ll cover the outside.”
Smart demon. I should have considered that. I sighed, realizing I had much to learn about being in charge. “Copy that. And thank you.”
Leaving my position, I made my way slowly out of the cemetery, skirting the edges of the iron fence and staying as hidden as possible behind the gnarled trees and ancient grave markers. The gate squeaked as I opened it, sticking in the snow. A touch of my fingers silenced the rusted iron and I pushed through, heading for the back of the church.
With the security systems diffused, the only sound was my boots on the snow-packed ground. I stood outside the kitchen door and laid a hand on the stone wall. The residual energies of my friends assaulted me. The tormented energy of a demon in pain stung my palm.
Had Kirill made it here on his own in such pain? Managed to get through my various security systems without setting them off?
I dug deeper, trying to find a second energy that was recent and being suppressed by Kirill’s pain. Deeper…deeper…
A thorn of white-hot electricity shocked my hand. I jumped back and rubbed at my injured palm. Kirill had been brought here by a preternatural creature, that much was true. The magic wasn’t dark, nor was it light. It was simply…powerful.
“What is it?” a hushed voice came from behind me. A wave of Dru’s protective magic wrapped itself around my arms, my hips.
I glanced over my shoulder and my blood did another skip. His hair was wet, bangs hanging low over his eyes.
Why did he have to be so sexy? “Pestilence was here, but he’s gone now. We need to help Kirill.”
He nodded, the action an urge for me to lead the way.
Kirill was lying on my kitchen floor in a puddle of green pus, blood and other body fluids I didn’t want to examine. Blood ran from his eyes, his nose, his ears. It seeped from under his fingernails. His chest moved in slow, jerky motions, a wheezing sound issuing from his lips.
His eyes were open, but he appeared to be blind, his head tilting toward the sound of Dru’s boots scuffing against the tiles.
The archdemon’s voice was barely more than a whisper. “Kali?”
I was frozen. “What happened to you?”
It seemed to take all of his energy to answer. “Pest…happened.”
In my ear, Cole barked at me. “Report in. Status?”
Dru crouched next to Kirill, looked up at me. “We should get him back to the Institute.”
I hit the ear comm. “Bring the car around. Transport needed to Institute.”
Dru, who was always so meticulous and fussy about his clothes and appearance, picked up Kirill like he was a child and carried him toward the front door.
“Hurry,” I added to Cole. “We don’t have much time.”
Chapter Forty-two
This is my fault.
I stewed as Cole drove us back to the Institute. Kirill had told me my plan to draw out the Red Horseman wouldn’t work. I should ha
ve listened.
And now the Institute’s resident doctor was dying. Who would take care of him?
Kirill lay across the backseat of the Land Rover, losing consciousness, then regaining it, crying out in terrible pain.
Bits and pieces of what had happened came out when he was awake, but he was less than lucid even when his eyes opened and his lips moved. He’d manipulated Pest in to taking him back as a soldier of disease, told him I was gunning for him and Pest needed to dispose of me. Hence leading him to my place.
Kirill was convinced Pest believed him…right up until Pest hit his disease specialist with a dose of his own medicine. Or in this case, a dose of the bubonic plague.
Dru notified our backup army to convene at the Institute. My hands shook as I stared at my phone trying to figure out what to do. Damon was gone; Yasmin would be of little help. Who should I call?
The letters skipped under my fingers as I texted Rad and told him what had happened. I had to keep deleting and retyping, my fingers shook so hard. Finally I hit send.
A minute later, he texted back that he was out of his meeting and would join us at the Institute. He knew nothing about diseases, nor did he seem overly concerned about the approaching apocalypse. He’d probably do nothing but distract me from my duties. Yet, he was the only one I wanted to see.
The route to the Institute was a circuitous one. Rioting had broken out in various neighborhoods. Houses and cars burned, dark smoke hovered in the air all over the South Side. Mobs of ordinary people roamed the streets, mixing and clashing with legitimate gangs. Supernaturals combed the back yards, alleys and empty lots, looking for human snacks.
A part of me wanted to jump out and confront the supernaturals preying on the innocent, but I ignored it. Instead, I laid a layer of protective magic over the Land Rover and we muscled our way through the worst. Here and there we caught the eyes of various miscreants, but all let us pass without confrontation.
Twenty minutes later, Dru and I hoisted Kirill into a bed in the infirmary. He’d had two seizures in the car, his lymph nodes were swelled and he was vomiting blood. Lainie put a hand over her mouth when she saw the archdemon, but offered to clean him up while I looked for supplies to treat him.
In the lab, I grabbed streptomycin, doxycycline and ciprofloxacin—medications I’d read about when I’d Googled bubonic plague. Would they work on a demon? Had to be some reason Kirill kept them around.
I’d had many IVs over the years and quite a few shots. With my current overactive immune system, I hadn’t needed anything but the yellow goo lately. I found a stash of bottles with green liquid in them in one of the refrigerators in the lab. If the variety of antibiotics I’d scored didn’t work, the yellow goo was next.
Seraphina entered the lab without a word and gathered the components to set up an IV. Together we descended on Kirill like a couple of EMTs and not long afterwards, the IV was pumping drugs and fluids into his system, an oxygen mask was helping him breath and Sera had drawn several syringes full of blood to test. We’d both infused our magics into everything entering and covering his body.
“Can you save him?” I asked her, not questioning her medical expertise, only his condition. “It’s bubonic plague.”
She scanned him with her soulful, turquoise eyes. “I’ve never seen a demon infected with plague. Human diseases don’t affect us.”
“Lucifer gave it to me a few months ago. Then he took it away a few minutes later. I can truthfully say, during the minute or two I was ill, I wanted to die.”
“Lucifer is all powerful.” Her lips thinned in concentration. “Without that type of intervention, there’s no way of saying whether he will live or die.”
Kirill stopped vomiting and slept. Fitfully, but at least he seemed to be in less pain. While Seraphina went to work looking at slides of his blood under a microscope, I headed for Damon’s office.
On the way, I passed the conference room. Lots of voices rising and falling. The troops were restless, on edge. I’d address them soon. First I needed a minute to myself. A minute to form a new plan and come up with a motivational speech.
Yeah, right. My plans had worked so well up to this point. My motivational speeches were nothing but garbage.
The door to the office was locked. Not magically, just a simple mechanical lock that flipped open at my touch. Inside, the lights were off, dust motes floating in the weak light by the window. Damon’s wood smoke smell was faint but I breathed it in, expanding my lungs as far as they would go to hang onto it. Exhausted, I dropped into his leather chair and closed my eyes.
I had failed. Everything. Everyone.
Kirill. Damon. Dru. The other vitiums. Even Ranulf.
I’d failed my father, my mother.
Myself.
For several minutes, I sat like that. Beating myself up and enjoying a good pity party.
But pity parties aren’t my style. I scrubbed my eyes with the back of my hands, flipped on the lights and scanned the rows of books on Damon’s shelves. I pulled out three, sat down and started reading. First up, the Bible.
Book of Revelation.
The text was confusing and soon I was thinking about my parents more than the words on the page. I left the Bible and opened a file cabinet where Damon kept personnel files.
Dulce, Kalina, wasn’t a hard one to find. It was right on top.
I’d sneaked a peek at the file before. Knew there was information about my parents and how they’d died. My tired eyes went over page after page of my assignments, my background, the past. There was nothing new, but I felt a fresh connection to my family.
I started to close the file when a line of handwriting on the inside flap caught my attention. Do what you are.
Damon’s handwriting. I sniffed the ink. Fresh.
Do what you are.
A message?
If so, I didn’t understand. Do what you’re good at. Do what comes natural. Those things I understood. But do what you are?
I sat back, forced myself to think like Damon. I was a vengeance demon. The Institute’s enforcer. A deadly sin and a righteous virtue. The earthly daughter of a prophetess and a scholar who’d authored several biblical books.
I was also the queen of the Central United States Undead Nation. A friend, a lover, a soldier. The monster Damon had made me.
Do what you are.
My thoughts were interrupted by Yasmin. She stormed into the office, grew even more angry when she saw me sitting in Damon’s chair. A deadly finger pointed at my face. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
After ten minutes of considering exactly that question, I answered truthfully. “Your new boss. What’s the problem?”
Flabbergasted, she sputtered and huffed. “What’s the problem? You’re the fucking problem.” She stabbed the top of the desk with her fingernail. “Whatever you did to make him leave, undo it. Bring him back. Fix this disaster right now. Kirill and I will not stand for you kicking Damon out and inserting yourself in his place.”
“Kirill is unfortunately unable to state his preference at the moment and I don’t know where Damon is. If I did, I’d beg him to come back. For the time being, I’m in charge. You’re free to leave and face the outside world on your own, but I hope you’ll stay and help us fight the Horsemen and the archangel Michael.”
“What’s wrong with Kirill? What did you do to him?”
Where the hell had she been? “He and the Red Horseman, Pestilence, had a run in. Kirill’s in serious condition.”
A second passed and her face reddened. “You bitch. You planned this all along, didn’t you?”
Being accused of purposely setting up Kirill pissed me off enough to bring my demon to the surface. I contained her, but she must have flashed in my eyes because Yasmin caught her breath and removed her finger.
I leaned forward. “I would never hurt Kirill. Or Damon for that matter. I made a poor judgment call with Kirill, but he’s an archdemon like you. I never dreamed he could be poisoned by a h
uman disease.”
“I suppose you also want me to believe that you had nothing to do with Damon leaving his position on the Council?”
Yasmin might have been a Council member, but Damon had kept her in the dark even more than me. I understood her anger. “He made a deal with Lucifer. A deal I knew nothing about until it was over.”
She leaned across the desk to put her face in front of mine. “You’ve been planning to take over the Institute since Damon brought you to work here.”
That got a laugh out of me. Outside of Sweet Investigations, I had no desire to be in charge of anything. I hated being vamp queen. Hated that the vitiums looked to me as their leader. Taking over the Institute would be a nightmare for me, not a career goal.
But Damon was counting on me. Whether he was there or not, I was going to do the job he’d given me.
I sat farther forward so our faces were even closer. “I don’t want to be in charge, Yasmin, but I am, so deal. Like I said before, you’re free to leave if you’re hostile to the change of leadership.”
I even sounded like Damon. She straightened, screwed up her mouth as if she were going to argue, and then stomped out of the office.
“That went well,” I said to myself. “Really, really well.”
Rad appeared in the open doorway. “What crawled up her ass?”
My insides did a flip to see him. So familiar, he was. So perfect in the midst of everything else.
“Me.” I scrubbed my eyes again. They felt swollen. My stomach growled. When was the last time I’d eaten? “And unfortunately, I’ll have to do again if she continues to threaten me.”
“She threatened you?”
“Not in so many words. Her aura, though, was a shining beacon of I’m-gunning-for-you.”
He flopped into the chair opposite the desk and drew it closer. He looked good. Tight jeans, a wooly fisherman’s sweater, a full night of sleep. “Better watch your back. She’s evil enough to come after you.”
His presence calmed me. “Yeah, well, she’ll have to get in line. At last count, Maria, Parker, Valentina, Pestilence, Michael and a few others were ahead of her.”