by Rosalie Redd
Gwawl straightened his shoulders and tapped his finger on the armrest. As if alive, the bones slid and rotated under the pressure. “Well, I’ve made a decision. First, as I have dominion over all the dark souls, I will assign the rookie to New York. Something might happen to our newest recruit if he remains in Chicago.”
Good decision. Otherwise, Marco would’ve hunted Gabriel down, cut off his head, and sent his dark soul into the ether himself.
Marco inclined his chin to his God in deference.
Gwawl smiled, and the tips of his canines glinted in the light. “Second, although you are technically an overlord in my army and command some of the younger, inexperienced fae, I’m giving you a couple of ‘more seasoned’ teammates, shall we say, until I can assess your loyalty and allegiance.”
Teammates? You mean babysitters. A ball hardened deep in Marco’s gut. “All I want is to serve you, earn your favor, and become a senior lieutenant in your army.”
“Do you now? Well, we’ll see about that.” A deep chuckle eased from Gwawl. “You’re a bit pale. Don’t fret, my minion. Your two new teammates will follow your lead.”
“Who are these new…teammates?” Marco’s voice rose an octave on the last word. He hated the thought that every move he made would be under a microscope.
“You’re anxious to meet your new friends. How charmingly sweet. Let’s get on with it then.” Gwawl clapped his hands together.
At the far end of the long chamber, a door creaked open. Two fae walked in. One had dark braided hair, olive skin, and wore a black leather jacket. A diamond stud pierced each ear lobe along with one in his nose. His emotions remained hidden behind his expressionless features.
Marco’s gaze slid to the other fae. The muscles in his shoulders tensed. With his dark hair and green eyes, this guy looked familiar. He wracked his brain, but the elusive connection remained out of reach.
“Come forward, gentlemen.” Gwawl rose from his seat. At over seven feet tall, his presence dwarfed everyone in the room.
The two men stepped forward.
Gwawl nodded toward the fae with the diamonds. “This is Zain Roldan. Recently reassigned from Detroit to Chicago. I’m sure you’ll get along smashingly.”
Zain nodded. A smile curled his lip, revealing a chipped front tooth.
Marco doubted “smashingly” described their relationship, but if the god wanted to mince words, so be it.
Gwawl strode to the other fae and placed his hand on the guy’s shoulder. “This here is a rare soul. I’m so very pleased he decided to switch teams. Do you recognize him?”
Switch teams… Marco blinked. Recognition sparked in the back of his mind. “Ah, yes. A gargoyle. I saw him a few times when I fought against Beaumont—”
“Former gargoyle.” The guy held out his palm. “Name’s Finn. Finn Mahoney.”
Finn’s sea-green eyes seemed bottomless, his expression tight, his lips thinned.
An odd sense of foreboding crested over Marco’s shoulders. In the many decades since Marco became a fae, few gargoyles had failed their test and turned evil, and to go from enemy to best buddies in less than a week stretched the realm of possibility thin.
Was he truly wicked now? Did he really lose his need for redemption? Was he a spy for Rhiannon? Surely, Gwawl would sense if that were true. In either case, Marco was stuck with the guy, at least for now.
Marco accepted the firm handshake. Finn relented first, and Marco had to stifle the urge to wipe his palm on his pants.
Gwawl returned to his throne. As he sat, the bones creaked and swirled, readjusting to his posture. “Now that you’re acquainted, I have an assignment for you.”
An opportunity. A jolt of hope made Marco’s hand twitch. “What can I do for you, my lord?”
The god rubbed his chin. “You mentioned you wanted to serve me, earn my favor, and move up in my army. That’s good. Very good, indeed. Because I require tribute as proof of your unwavering loyalty. Something that will please me and make me forget all about your desire to create a human army. Don’t make me wait long.”
Irony bit Marco in the balls, for he’d once requested a similar tribute from his human minion, and, as if he’d literally been bitten, his scrotum constricted closer to his body for protection. He swallowed then inclined his head. “As you command, my lord.”
“A word of advice while you’re working on your tribute, don’t let your kill record suffer.” An uncanny smile curled Gwawl’s lip. “Now, we have nothing further to discuss. Dusk approaches, and I have the urge to visit my caged gargoyle pets.”
Rumors abounded over the exact number of captured and trapped gargoyle’s Gwawl actually kept in a room hidden from most fae, but Marco had no doubt he tortured them mercilessly. With a sweep of the god’s large hand, the double doors at the far end of the room opened.
Marco glanced from Zain to Finn. Irritation flared at his temple. One or both might rat him out to Gwawl if he so much as stepped an inch out of line. As soon as they hit the pavement, he’d have a little talk with his new “teammates.”
Marco raised his chin and strode toward the exit, his long overcoat billowing around his knees with each step.
Marco materialized in his favorite hiding spot in the human realm, one located in an abandoned old church not far from the University of Chicago. He had turned it into his private quarters with everything he needed to be comfortable. A few bits of dust swirled in the eddy he’d created, but they slowed and came to rest beside one of the well-stocked bar’s carved wooden feet. What better place to hide among the humans than in an abandoned place of worship?
Several months ago he’d followed part of Chicago’s underground tunnel, and with the help of a few fae minions, stocked the room alongside the bell tower with everything he’d needed to create his own elaborate private quarters.
Tapping into a source of electricity had required more ingenuity, but like the old saying, “where there’s a will, there’s a way.” Besides, he enjoyed having a place of his own in the human realm where he could retreat for some regeneration time after a good battle with the enemy.
A small dust storm rose on his left, another on his right. Moments later, his two companions joined him.
Zain glanced from the liquor bottles on the ornate bar, to the large couch, and then to the giant flat-screen TV. A cartoon flitted over the screen, the volume off. His lips tightened. “You don’t seem like the cartoon type. You bring children in here? Hunt them?”
“That wouldn’t surprise me.” Finn sat on one of the bar stools, snagged a bottle of Irish whiskey off the bar, and took a swig.
Marco clamped his jaw so hard his teeth clacked together. He paced to Finn’s side, snatched the bottle, and placed it back on the shelf. “Children hold a special place in my heart. I would never harm a child.”
Indeed, he’d learned firsthand what it was like when an adult injured a kid. He rubbed his hand along his nape, and his fingers slid over the tip of one of many scars.
To this day, he refused to wear a belt with a metal buckle. Yet despite or maybe because of his father’s abuse, he’d sought the man’s approval, never receiving any until the day Marco had left the house for good.
Finn wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m glad ta hear that.”
“Ditto,” Zain replied.
A jolt of irritation brought Marco to the couch where he grabbed the remote and turned off the TV. Time to find out about his new Irish friend. “So, Finn, what did you do to fall so far from grace? Try to seduce your goddess?”
“Not on yer life. She would’a strung me up to dry if I’d a tried that.” Finn rose from the stool and joined him by the couch. “I did break a rule, though, one grave enough ta turn me into a fae. I killed a human. Can’t say I didn’t enjoy wringin’ the life out of yer old chum, Gabriel.”
Marco riveted his attention on Finn. “You killed Gabriel?”
“Aye. I did.”
Finn hadn’t just killed any human. He’d kille
d Gabriel. How ironic was that?
Marco’s bullshit radar rose a notch. Still, the guy committed a sin to bring his sorry ass down from his exalted perch. Even a righteous gargoyle could fall. Once a gargoyle made his fatal mistake, though, the malevolent side of him came out in full force.
The handle of Marco’s cane rested in the crook of his elbow. He brushed his fingers over the smooth surface and studied his new partner. “Seems a bit convenient, doesn’t it?”
Finn smiled, and a dimple formed in his chin. “Aye, doesn’t it?”
Zain cleared his throat. “Don’t want to interrupt your private party, but we have work to do. So, boss, what’s our first assignment?”
Boss. The word traveled through Marco like lightning, leaving a jolt of satisfaction in its wake. He’d had other fae who’d worked with him before, but they’d been of the human-just-turned-rookie type. These two were something else entirely. If he used them right, maybe he’d bring his tribute to Gwawl and flush out the spy as well.
Marco smiled. “Well, your timing is perfect, shall we say. I found a special young woman several months ago, a jewel among the rabbits who walk around as humans.
“Pure, innocent, and so very powerful. When I discovered her, she was eighteen, and since the age of majority in the Otherworld is nineteen, still a minor. As I’ve said, I won’t hurt a child, but I did give her some of my saliva so I can track her.”
Finn’s brow furrowed. “Why do ya want her? When a fae kills a human with a good soul, all ya get is a brief shot of energy before the soul travels ta the Otherworld. Other than that, she’ll be no good ta the fae army.”
Marco held up his index finger. “Well, now. That’s where you’re wrong.”
Zain blinked. “How so?”
Excitement propelled Marco to the bar. He grasped a decanter of brandy and poured two fingers of the alcohol into a glass. As he swirled the liquid in the snifter, he smiled. “This young woman turned nineteen yesterday, so she’s fair game so to speak. The power is in her purity and innocence, which is a rare treat and will make a perfect tribute to Gwawl.”
Finn sat on the couch and propped his booted feet on the coffee table. “Pray tell, how will ya accomplish that?”
Marco downed the brandy, and liquid fire burned all the way to his gut. He set the glass on the counter. “She’s connected to me. I’ve already started to pull the wholesome energy from her and placed the essence in a bottle. It’s not potent enough yet, but once I have it all, the pure force it contains will be enough to give even a god a nice energy boost. Gwawl will be impressed.”
Zain sat on the couch opposite from Finn. He rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Why don’t you just kill her and take her essence all in one shot?”
Marco stared hard at the fae. “Have you lived under a rock? I’d like nothing more than to do exactly that, but the taking of a soul is delicate work.”
He shrugged off his overcoat and hung it on the wooden coat rack. With a gentle caress, he brushed his fingers over the smooth handle of his cane.
“The urge to suck her dry can be overwhelming. If I’m not careful, I’ll kill her before I’ve completed my task. All that power would go,” Marco spread his fingers into the air, “poof. That would be a tragedy of epic proportions.”
A puzzled furrow formed on Zain’s brow. “If her soul is so powerful, why don’t you keep the power for yourself?”
Marco pointed at Zain. “Now that’s a valid question. Originally, that was my intent, but based on current circumstances, I’d rather appease a god than challenge one.”
Finn set his feet on the floor and nodded. “Ya have a good point.”
An idea ignited in Marco’s mind. A sense of giddiness rose so fast he wanted to yell at the top of his lungs. He glanced at Finn. “You, my dear friend, will bring her to me.”
Finn’s eyes widened as he leaned forward. “Ya want me ta capture a young lass and bring her to ya?”
Marco raised an eyebrow. “Not up for the task? Seems pretty simple to me.”
Finn smiled. “’Twould be my pleasure. Now tell me, who is this lass?”
“Hannah McAllister.”
Finn’s smile faded ever so slightly. A twitch curled his lip, but then his smile returned. “Now that’ll be as easy as takin’ candy from a babe. I know where she lives.”
“Perfect. Bring her here.” Marco loosened his tie and undid the first button of his shirt.
“Ya don’t happen ta have a mind link, do ya?”
Marco pursed his lips. “I’ll know when you arrive with her, and in case you forgot, you’re no longer a gargoyle.”
Finn winked. “How could I ever forget?”
“You want me to go with him?” Zain nodded toward Finn, and his braid slid over his shoulder.
“You’ll remain with me. We need to work on increasing our kill record for Gwawl, and I’ve never had a bodyguard,” or babysitter, “before. Might be a nice change of pace.”
Besides, some ancient leader had said “Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.” He’d do exactly that.
Finn tested.
Zain close by his side.
What better way to start a friendship?
“I better get a move on.” Finn stepped away from the couch.
Marco raised his hand. “One last thing. The transition from childhood to adulthood is a magical time. Hannah’s energy will be at its strongest for the next three nights. Then, it will fade, and I won’t be able to claim it. A word of warning. If you don’t succeed, fae or not, friend or not, I will kill you. Are we clear?”
Finn inclined his head but didn’t lower his gaze. “As the reflection on the water of a still loch.”
A whirlwind of dirt swirled in a small eddy, and Finn disappeared.
Marco crooked his finger at Zain. “Let’s prepare for our guest, shall we?”
CHAPTER 6
Seth materialized on South Street Beach. A strong breeze whipped over his shoulders and threatened to launch his Stetson into Lake Michigan. Even with the strap under his chin he didn’t want to take the chance, so he ripped his favorite hat from his head and held it alongside his jeans.
In a brilliant display of reds, greens, and golds, Drake’s molecules reformed, and his boss stood next to him. He peered at the shore then lifted his gaze past the sand, the grass, and to the single-story brick building.
Lines in his cheeks drew taut. “Show me where Finn killed Gabriel.”
During the day while trapped at their posts, Seth had shared the details of Finn’s death. Drake’s reaction had been all business, and Seth’s dislike for him had grown by the hour. He tightened his grip on his hat. Good thing he had something in his hand, otherwise he’d pound his fist into Drake’s face out of spite.
“Over here.” Seth marched toward the restrooms. The sand under his boots shifted with each step, slowing him down. For a moment, he considered dematerializing there, but he needed to let out some of his frustration, and the short walk provided some relief.
The full moon, partially covered by a cloud, cast the beach in a soft glow. Visible in the distance, a few pedestrians, a jogger, and a man walking his dog shared this bit of Chicago. Seth and Drake must keep that in mind for what they were about to do.
As they approached the small building, a man emerged from the men’s restroom. He wore a pair of dirty jeans and a ripped shirt. Hair loose around his shoulders, he sported several days’ growth of facial hair.
His gaze zipped from Seth to Drake and back again. Eyes wide, he wiped the back of his hand over his shirt. “D…don’t hurt me. I don’t have any money.”
Drake stared at the human. “We’re not here for you. Be on your way.”
A spark of annoyance flitted along Seth’s nerves. He placed his hat on his head and retrieved his billfold from his pocket. At night as the gargoyles descended from their posts, Rhiannon provided each one with fresh clothes and a wallet with enough cash for emergencies or any small purchases. You never knew when
you’d need a quick buck.
Seth withdrew a one-hundred-dollar bill and held the money toward the man. “Get yourself a shave and a decent meal.”
The man studied Seth. Wariness glimmered in his eyes as he stepped forward and snatched the bill from Seth’s grasp. “Thanks, man.”
He bolted around the building.
Seth couldn’t help everyone down on their luck, but when opportunity smacked him alongside the head, he did what he could.
“You’re too soft. If you’re not careful, that’ll come back to bite you.” Drake pointed to the women’s restroom. “See if that one’s clear. I’ll check the men’s.”
Seething inside, Seth strode toward the door with the stick figure in a diamond-shaped dress. He rapped on the metal.
Silence.
He pushed open the door and peered inside. Among the dirt and grime, piles of trash littered the floor, and a single bulb lit up the mirrors over three sinks.
The distinct scent of human feces invaded his nostrils. Seth wrinkled his nose and peered under the stalls. No legs in sight.
Thank you, blessed Rhiannon.
He withdrew from the fetid place in a rush.
Drake emerged from the men’s room at the same time. “All clear.”
“Same here.” Seth nodded. He trailed his fingers along the cord at his wrist, circling the figure eight.
Drake’s attention followed a dark stain along the pavement that pooled next to the wall. “Finn killed Gabriel here. I sense the taint.”
Memories of Finn ripped through Seth’s mind—the anger in his features, his hands wrapped around Gabriel’s throat, the snap of bone. Seth tightened his jaw. “Looks like the human authorities took care of the body.”
The edge of Drake’s lip curled. “Good thing. I’m not in the mood to deal with humans.”
“Really? Could’a fooled me, Ace.” Seth let the barb hang in the air.
Drake raised a dark eyebrow. “Look, cowboy. We’re here to get a job done. If you don’t like my attitude, tough shit.”
Seth trailed his fingers over the handle of his whip. He was as much on edge as his boss. After losing his best friend, Seth needed to let off a little steam.