“I know. But they know about this place. They know who lives here, which angels are in and out, what your shifter shapes are, all of it. Ondrass—they don’t know about his place. At least, not so far as I can tell.”
“Damn,” Angelique said. “Damn.” She looked around and saw that Shateiel was sitting on the porch, lounging in a deckchair. “Shay!”
“What are you doing?” Riley asked.
The angel looked over and she beckoned. He got to his feet and walked over, an expression of curiosity on his face.
“Shay, can you, Vel, and Asaf take us over to Ondrass’s?” Angelique asked. “I think we need to get there as soon as possible.”
“Is there a problem?” Shateiel’s mental voice was concerned.
“Yeah. These bastards, this Transom or TCC or whatever they call themselves, they’re going to keep doing what they’re doing. And they know about this place, all of what Michael does here. We need to get the intel somewhere secure.”
Shateiel’s expression became grim. “I see. One moment.”
As Liam watched the exchange, he felt a strange prickling on the back of his neck. He shot a look at his brother, seeing that Declan had already drawn his gun from the holster at his hip.
“What is it?” Baxter asked, as Liam drew his own weapon.
“Something’s coming.” Liam got to his feet.
“What?” Angelique asked.
“Don’t know.”
“Liam, go left. I’ll go right. Let’s get to the front of the building,” Declan said.
Liam nodded and, gun held low, began to move. Behind him, he heard Angelique issuing orders—to shift to their wolves, to Riley to go inside the building and warn the other Venatores, to Shateiel to call Michael and Gabriel.
He couldn’t focus on that now. The sensation of something very wrong was growing, and as he made his way around the house, a strange smell hit his nose. He gagged slightly as he breathed shallowly, smelling something that reminded him of overripe strawberries and chlorine. Liam made his way to the front yard, seeing Declan on the far side, and as he reached the fence line, on the other side of the road, he saw a strange light begin to shimmer and glow. As he watched, the light became a wind and leaves, dirt, and twigs were caught up, blowing up into a tightly controlled whirlwind.
Liam swore. And then he dropped to his knees. Fumbling in his pocket for the pouch of herbs he always kept on him, Liam began to mutter a prayer and then a spell. He wasn’t sure it would work—with all the Archangel power around, the power of Hoodoo might not have its usual effect. But damn if he wasn’t going to try.
Still incanting, Liam poured the contents of the pouch onto the ground, forming an intricate design. It was the sigil of Ogoun, the loa of iron, hunting, politics, and war. It was his war aspect that Liam called on, muttering the prayer and plea that he had been taught so many years ago.
He cast a quick look at the coalescing wind and light, gasping as he saw figures appearing within. The sense of sheer raw power coming from them almost bowled him over, and Liam felt the chill of fear in his heart.
And then he heard Declan, his brother’s voice a loud shout, and he grinned in spite of himself. As a shifter, trained in Hoodoo and raised in Santeria, Declan was calling on the loa Marinette for aid. For a moment, Liam wondered who Declan expected her to ride—the ritual of possession the loa used—and then as Declan stood, arms spread wide, Liam realized that Declan was offering himself.
For a moment, Liam was frozen in awe as he watched his brother, heard a sound of inrushing air and a loud cry of a screech owl. The bird appeared, hovered above Declan, and as Liam watched, the owl became liquid, red and bright, and poured itself into Declan’s mouth.
“Holy crap,” Liam said. He’d never seen his brother do this, although he had no doubt Declan had done it before.
“What say you, boy?”
Liam spun, and gulped as he found himself in the presence of a curious and larger than life loa. It was one thing, he thought, to communicate with them via spells and ritual; it was quite another to see one in the flesh.
“My lord,” Liam began, bowing deeply. In spite of everything, he felt a sense of enormous awe and respect for this being in front of him. “You honor me with your presence. I’d like to ask a favor of you.”
The loa tilted his head to one side, regarding Liam thoughtfully. “You be wanting my help to get rid of them witches?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t do that. They be using powerful magics, and it’s more than what I have. But I can help you hold them back ’til your angels get here.”
Liam bowed again. “I am extremely grateful, Lord Ogoun.”
“Odd how you know all about the spells of my people. Who’d you learn from?”
“Bokor Mambo Selana,” Liam said.
“Oh yeah, I know her.” The smile Ogoun gave Liam was infectious, and he smiled back. “Now then, I see your brother’s doin’ his thing with the help of Marinette. So now I’ll do mine. Tell the wolves to stay back.”
“Yes, my lord. Thank you, again.”
Ogoun winked at him, and Liam grinned. As he watched, the loa turned and walked over to stand in the middle of the road. He sat down, crossed his legs, and waited. Declan walked over to join him, his movements a little jerky, and Liam wondered if that was the way Marinette walked or if the orisha was adjusting to Declan’s body.
“What the hell is going on, and who are they?” It was Angelique.
Liam didn’t take his eyes of the two loa, one in the body of his brother. “Loa. Orishas. Keep the Venatores inside the boundaries of the property.”
“Why?”
“Because they’ll keep those witches out until the Archangels arrive.”
She growled at that and then turned to bark to the other shifters who had joined her in the front yard. Liam shot a quick look over his shoulder and was surprised at just how many there were. Nearly three dozen shifters—wolf, fox, cougar, lion, horse, bear, eagle—waited for the next command.
Liam turned back to watch the witches and saw that their forms had solidified. There were thirteen of them, as he’d suspected; a traditional coven number. Six men and seven women, and from all nationalities, he thought. They wore white, with silver belts, and they were glaring at the loa with obvious hatred and fury.
“Your feeble tricks with Hoodoo, Voodoo, and other African magics will not keep us out forever,” one of the witches, a tall woman with reddish blonde hair, called out. “You might know a spell or ritual or two, Liam and Declan of Puerto Rico, but your magics and talents are no match for us.”
Liam stood up straight. “That remains to be seen, doesn’t it?”
“I suppose it does.” She smiled a cruel smile. “I’m really looking forward to skinning your wolf lover. His pelt will make a wonderful lining for my cloak.”
“Do you really think a threat like that is going to make me do something stupid? Lady, if you know who I am, then you know what I’ve been through. You need to do better than that.”
“Then let’s stop the talk and start the fight,” she said. She raised an arm and the rest of the coven followed suit. Liam heard them begin to chant in Latin, and he resisted rolling his eyes.
“One day,” he grumbled, “a witch will use ancient Greek instead of Latin, and I’ll faint in shock.”
“No fainting, babe,” Baxter said.
Liam looked down at him, and brushed his fingers through Baxter’s soft fur. “You know there’s no way I’ll let her skin you, right?”
“Sure. And there’s no way I’ll let her kill you. What’s your brother doing?”
“Something super dangerous, but he seems to know what he’s up to. I’ve never seen him do this before. It’s called being ridden by a loa or orisha—when they possess your body to be able to act in the world in the physical form.”
“But this loa was an owl.”
“Yeah. That’s one of her forms. Lady Marinette is her name. She’s the protector of werewolves and shifter
s, and she can either free you from bondage or drag you back.”
“So not to be messed with, then. Who did you summon?”
“I asked Lord Ogoun, another loa, in his warrior aspect, to help.”
“What are they doing, then?”
“Holding the fort until the angels arrive.”
“Which would be now.” Angelique’s mental voice was full of smug satisfaction.
Liam looked toward the road and saw five Archangels and more than fifty angels appear. They were all in full armor, and he saw Gabriel and Michael at the front of the group, both of them wearing almost identical expressions of fury. The relief that washed through him was so intense that, for a moment, Liam felt slightly dizzy.
“Easy, babe,” Baxter thought to him, pressing closer in support.
“They showed up just in time,” Liam said.
“Leave,” Michael was saying to the witches. His voice was full of fury, and Liam shivered a little at the sound of it. “Leave. Now.”
The witches looked at him, the leader of the coven sneering. “You don’t frighten us, Michael. Your powers will soon be banished.”
“But soon ain’t now,” Gabriel said. He was stalking toward her, his sword in his hand. “You want to feel the pointy end of my magical sword of power, I’m more than happy to oblige.”
“Screw you, Gabriel,” she spat, and cast a wave of green energy at him. As Liam watched, Gabriel brushed it aside with his sword as if it were nothing more dangerous than a tennis ball.
“Thanks, but no. I like my partners to be sane and not full of hate,” Gabriel said. He was advancing on the group quickly, and the other angels were following him. “Also, I’m taken, so you’d have no chance anyway. Now, do as Michael says and get the fuck outta here.”
Another witch, this one a man with long, wavy dirty-blond hair stepped forward and raised his arms, incanting. From his fingers came lightning, crackling and sizzling, and the scent of ozone that accompanied it was heavy. Liam sneezed and rubbed his nose, even as Gabriel held up his sword and the lightning hit the blade and was absorbed without incident.
“I will tell you one last time,” Michael said, his voice as grim as death. “Leave. Do not test the wrath of Archangels, angelkind, Archdemons, demonkind, or loa and orishas. Go. Now. Or die.”
It hung there for a moment, and then the head witch pointed a finger at him. “You might have saved today, but you won’t save tomorrow,” she spat. “We will triumph, and you’ll be banished. All of you not born on this planet, not native to this planet, will be banished, and it will be glorious.” She spun on her heel, and the group of witches clustered together, incanting again. They coalesced into shimmering light, wind swirling around them with debris caught up in it, and then they were gone.
Liam let out an explosive breath. “Damn,” he muttered. He continued to watch as Ogoun uncoiled himself and gracefully got to his feet, Declan beside him. Michael turned to the loa and bowed deeply, and Ogoun and Declan returned it.
“Thank you for coming,” Michael said. “I am exceedingly grateful.”
“The boy over yonder called me,” Ogoun said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of Liam. “We ain’t often called upon in these postwar days, but we’re happy to help when we’re asked with respect. And the boy did that. He’s a good one, Archangel.”
“He is indeed,” Michael said.
“It ain’t often shifters call on me, either,” Marinette said, her voice sounding strange coming from Declan’s mouth. “But the shifter I ride did, and he asked me good, so I came. Those witches, Archangel, they’ll be the death of us all, and we loa don’t like that. You need our help in the future to deal with ’em, you let us know.”
Michael bowed again. “You are most kind. I thank you.”
“We’ll be off, then,” Ogoun said. “Safe hunting to you, Archangel.”
“And safe travels to you, Lord and Lady,” Michael said.
Liam watched as Ogoun vanished, and a moment later, Declan threw back his head and the red liquid that was the essence of Marinette burst out of him, forming back into the shape of the screech owl. The owl dipped her wings once, and then flew away. Declan dropped to his knees, panting, and Michael bent down to help him stand.
“Are you all right?” Michael asked.
“Yeah, I’m good. Just…. Marinette rides her horses hard,” Declan said. “I’m thirsty and need something to eat.”
“I will attend to it,” Michael said. “Please join your brother, so that we may hear from both of you what has happened.”
“Sure,” Declan agreed. He walked back toward Liam, his steps slow and heavy, and Liam jogged over to him, reaching out to take Declan’s arm.
“Dude, are you sure you’re okay?” he asked.
Declan nodded. “Yeah, yeah. Just hungry and thirsty, and I’ll sleep like a rock tonight.”
“I’ve never seen you do that before,” Liam said. “Open yourself to a loa like that.”
“I haven’t done it for years,” Declan said with a weary shrug. “It takes a lot out of you. Didn’t Selana teach you how to do it?”
“Yeah, but I never had the nerve,” Liam said. He grinned. “I thought it’d be damn hard.”
“You thought right. Hey, Angelique.”
“Here.” Angelique was back in her human form and dressed. She held out a bottle of cold water, and Declan took it, opening it and drinking from it greedily. “I have never seen anyone do what you two did,” she continued. “Where did you learn that? It was amazing. Also a little terrifying.”
“Back in Puerto Rico,” Liam said.
“Ah. Seems like a lot happened in Puerto Rico.”
“Yep. Most of it was good.” Liam looked at his brother. “Dude, sit down before you fall down. I don’t think Michael’s going to mind.”
Declan grunted, but allowed himself to be led around to the back of the building and pressed into a chair on the veranda. He stretched out his legs and let out a long sigh. “Where is he?” he asked.
“Still out the front,” Liam said.
“Okay.” Declan closed his eyes. “Let me know when he’s here.”
“He’s here,” Liam said.
Declan frowned and opened his eyes. “Dude… oh. You are here.”
“I am indeed,” Michael said. Gabriel was with him. “You are certain you are well?”
“Yep.” Declan nodded. “The others can fill you in on what we learned at Bangor.”
“As you say.” Michael canted his head to one side. “You have studied Voodoo extensively?”
“Yeah. Hoodoo, too, and Santeria. Both of us.”
“I see. That was clever thinking by both of you, calling upon the loa.”
“I couldn’t think what else to do,” Liam admitted.
“Same here,” Declan said.
“I am afraid that you will not be able to rest yet, and I am sorry,” Michael said. “We will have to move you and Angelique’s pack to Ondrass’s building in Portland. I will need to intensify the wards and protections here.”
Declan nodded. “Yeah, figured that.”
“Once you are there, I am told that there is a banquet for you. Once you have eaten, get some rest. We will come and speak with all of you tomorrow.”
“Sure thing, Michael,” Declan said.
“Good. Then we will see you tomorrow,” Michael said.
“Thanks,” Liam said.
“I am afraid that I do not deserve thanks. Not yet. But I will make this right,” Michael said. Behind him, Gabriel sighed and looked toward the sky. “We will speak with Angelique and the others, and then Shateiel will organize transport to Portland.” With that, Michael turned and left the veranda.
Gabriel, however, lingered. “He’s upset,” he said. “He thinks this is all his fault. It’s gonna take me a few days to calm him down a bit so he thinks strategy and not self-flagellation. You two did good. I want you to both know that. The loas were a stroke of genius. Don’t let anyone give you
shit for that, yeah? And don’t let anyone give you shit if you don’t want to explain the details of your upbringing or your beliefs or anything at all. It ain’t their business.”
Liam smiled at that. “Thanks, Gabe. We appreciate that.”
“Yeah,” Declan said. “I feel a bit better. I thought we’d have to answer the inquisition or something.”
“No. Not on my watch, and I don’t plan on being shut out from this beautiful planet.” Gabriel smiled at them both. “Now, you head over to Ondrass’s, eat, and get some rest. He’s set things up for you, and while I don’t trust him as far as I can comfortably spit a dead rat, we’re allies, and he’s damn good at the whole protection gig.”
Declan laughed. “What a horrible description. But yeah, I get it.”
“Me too.” Liam nodded. “We’ll be okay, Gabe.”
“Okay. Well, I better catch up to Michael before he dons a hair shirt or something. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“Good luck, Gabe,” Liam said. “I think you’ll need it.”
“Aye, probably so.” Gabriel shook his head. “Anyway. Tomorrow it is.” And then he walked off in the direction Michael had gone.
“What a day,” Declan sighed.
“You took the words right out of my mouth,” Liam said.
12
GABRIEL TOOK Michael’s hand and tugged him away from the angry Venatores in the front yard. “Let ’em be,” he said softly. “They’ll be angry for a while, aye, and anger’s better than despair. Shateiel and the Seraphim can move everyone who needs to be over to Ondrass’s in Portland while we take care of this place. But while they do that, you need to take a few moments to get yourself together and stop grieving.”
Michael stiffened. “I have reason to grieve, Gabriel. This place is a safe haven, a sanctuary. And now it has been violated.”
“No,” Gabriel corrected, “the other side of the street’s been violated.”
Michael glared at him.
“I know you’re angry at me right now, ’cause I’m right. And you should stay angry, it’s much better than being miserable. You’re blaming yourself for something that ain’t your fault. So I’m making an executive decision and taking us both somewhere that we can get our minds clear so we can focus with proper attention on strategy and what to do next.” He didn’t wait for Michael to answer; instead, Gabriel moved them.
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