It took me a moment to realize I still had my eyes closed, because through my eyelids, I sensed light. I slowly opened them, careful to not appear threatening to whatever scene I had stumbled onto.
And found myself staring at Kevin who looked stunned. “You’re the asshole!” I gasped. Kevin had double-crossed us, been in on the theft the whole time, even called in the winged cowboy!
He cocked his head and pointed over my shoulder. I briefly glanced back to see the ladder we had originally descended from. I was back at the entrance, the caretaker’s cabin above me. “Well, shit,” I growled, lowering my hands in defeat as my hypothesis disintegrated. “Might want to go get our sniffer. Looks like Alyksandre missed it our first time through.”
Kevin grunted, nodding. He peered at where I had emerged, looking embarrassed that he hadn’t noticed it before turning away to jog back to the cavern. The fold in the rock almost fully concealed the narrow crack from view. Without knowing it existed, it was easy to miss. I noticed a piece of rock had broken off a lower fold in the stone. I knew I hadn’t kicked free any rocks, so it was yet more proof that someone had made the journey before me, and left evidence behind of their passage.
I heard Kevin call out for Alyksandre to tell him about my appearance. That the crevice had circled the catacomb, and that whoever had stolen Andy’s Ring – whatever that was – had left the same way we had entered.
Nameless appeared, listening to the exchange as Claire lumbered up to me, sniffing and then nuzzling her massive head under my armpit. I spotted a piece of shredded lace on the ground and scowled.
“You owe me a new pair of La Perla panties,” I threatened her. “Your big hairy ass was never designed for couture lingerie.” The angry polar bear curled her lip at me and then – without breaking eye contact – sat on the shred of lace. She even wriggled her ass into the ground, grinding the remains of my panties into the earth. I scowled, turning away with a sniff.
Nameless was frowning in disapproval as Alyksandre spoke. “I sensed it before, but thought it was merely the trail of it leading here, not the trail of it leading away,” he grumbled, sounding more embarrassed than anything. As if his own anger at his failure was greater than anyone else’s thoughts on the matter.
I let the silence build for a few minutes. “Right. Well, I’m filthy, cold, and tired. This place holds no further importance, so how about we recap tomorrow? Tell me all about Andy’s Holy Ring.”
“Aandaleeb,” Kevin corrected.
Nameless nodded, eyes distant. “Yes. Perhaps we can talk about that, too,” he said, lifting a finger to point at the scarf hanging from my neck.
He turned back to his Nephilim, obviously not a big fan of goodbyes.
“Search every inch of this place,” Nameless told them. “We might find more scarves. Finders keepers,” he added with a smile.
Alyksandre and Kevin were both studying me with calculating eyes. They knew I’d had the scarf before we got here, but they hadn’t said anything. They very easily could have called me out. Especially since they were likely upset that I hadn’t told them what it really was, and had instead concealed the crucifix emblazoned across the front.
Did they know what it did?
Basically, they had many reasons to tattle on me – and they probably should have.
But they chose a life of sin – a lie of omission to their Angel boss.
I was beginning to like them more and more.
Chapter 14
The pew was sturdy and vastly uncomfortable, obviously designed for penance. I shifted slightly, trying to find a more pleasant position, but the punishment was evenly spread across the wooden torture rack.
“Stop fidgeting,” Dorian grumbled beside me. “Have you no decency? We’re at Mass.”
Dorian Gray was wearing a pristine dove-gray suit, perfectly tailored to his frame. He even sported a small primrose in his lapel. His hair was perfectly slicked back, it looked like he had colored some gray into his temples – as if hoping it would help him spear-fish the Desperate Housewives of Abundant Angel Catholic Church. And I was pretty sure he was wearing makeup. Then again, he was gloriously beautiful, not the slightest hint of a blemish marring his prettiness.
But he had a painting of himself at his mansion that revealed an entirely different view – depicting him as a leper. He kept that one in a safer place, now. Ever since I had found it and threatened to torch it.
Because Dorian Gray was immortal – as long as his painting was safe. He thirsted for vice and sin, and his appetite was insatiable. Every act of deviance he participated in, each moral or ethical rule he shattered, and any physical wound he received was instead transferred to his painting, leaving him perfectly flawless, but his painting more and more grotesque.
And he was chastising me in Sunday Mass.
The glare on my face only made him smile back, flashing me his perfectly white teeth.
“He has a point,” Cain muttered under his breath, leaning closer. “I find it very disrespectful. Personally.”
He was a rough-looking kind of guy with messy brown hair and very light eyes that stood out against his bronze skin, as if he never spent a minute indoors. And he hadn’t gone out of his way to dress up like Dorian. Cain was a take-it-or-leave-it kind of guy, for the most part. I gritted my teeth, considering elbowing him in the ribs, but quickly dispelled the idea.
Cain – coined the world’s first murderer after he killed his brother, Abel, for not sharing his pet rock or something – was personally offended? Thinking about it, I kind of understood. He was the son of Adam and Eve. It was probably like watching a home video of his childhood, but none of his friends were paying attention.
So, two morally-flexible people were telling me to stop being inconsiderate. Broken clocks, and all that. “Fine. I’m just tired,” I finally admitted.
“Did you know that kid?” Cain murmured softly, not looking away from Father David at the pulpit. We were far enough back to not earn Father David’s open displeasure, but I could tell he sensed us and didn’t appreciate us talking through his sermon.
Cain slowly jerked his chin towards a young boy who was sitting on the edge of his pew a few rows ahead of us. He looked about ready to explode forward to rush the pulpit, even though his parents kept trying to push him back and make him sit still.
I had pulled the kid aside to ask him to do me a favor just before we entered the church, recognizing him from earlier visits to Abundant Angel Catholic Church – the place that used to be my stomping grounds when I worked with Roland for the Vatican Shepherds – holy warrior wizard monks.
That had kind of gone up in flames after my trip to Rome, but I wasn’t about to stop visiting the church. I had a lot of memories here. Hell, Father David had found me as a baby on the church’s front steps, later delivering me to my parents for adoption.
Ironically, now that I didn’t work downstairs in the secret training area for the once resident-Shepherd, I realized I was more interested in attending church than I’d ever been before. Maybe that was just because I was rebellious. Possibly nostalgic. Tell me I couldn’t go somewhere, and guess where I was going next?
“Why is he so excited?” Cain asked suspiciously.
“You’ll see…”
Cain and Dorian glanced at me, frowning in unison. The pew suddenly felt more comfortable.
As Father David continued, I could have sworn that his eyes settled on me for a significant length of time. He looked tired. Was he still upset about my adventures in Rome? He did work for the Vatican, in a way. Or maybe he was fearful at the potential reason for my attendance.
To be honest, I would have much rather stayed in bed, but I had thought the soothing drone of the church could do me some good – to put things into perspective. I was neck deep in Angel politics. I realized I was openly glaring at a painting of an Angel in flowing white robes, blowing a trumpet. I sniffed, averting my eyes. Not at all what they really look like, I thought to myself.
Perhaps I had come to church for guidance. I felt adrift lately, not sure what my place in Kansas City was going to be.
I’d hunted monsters for the Vatican – briefly – and had never really wanted to work for them in an official capacity. But that didn’t mean I didn’t want to keep my city safe from monsters. It felt like I had an internal compass pulling me to do it regardless of my employer.
But I’d decided to not be anyone’s pawn.
Not the church.
Not Heaven.
And definitely not Hell.
That hadn’t stopped the recruitment letters, figuratively speaking. Both sides of the Bible were interested in me. It was getting harder and harder to be a…free agent, so to speak. So, I was making friends with the local monsters – the relatively good ones.
Like taking a few of the monsters to church with me.
Because when Roland returned to find he was officially no longer welcome as a Shepherd – since he was now a vampire – he was going to be forced into monster politics whether he liked it or not. So… I was kind of doing this for him as well. Making sure we both had new allies.
Claire began to openly snore, so I pinched her thigh. “Christ!” she hissed from a dead sleep.
The people three rows ahead of us even turned around at her sudden outburst. Father David pointedly didn’t look in our direction, but I could tell he wanted to throw his Bible at us. Dorian was calming those around him down, apologizing for Claire. “She’s new to this,” he explained in a soft, seductive voice, smiling much-too-devilishly at a married woman.
Not so strangely enough, the woman’s husband was eyeing Dorian with a thoughtful smile rather than a territorial scowl about the type of smile Dorian was flashing his wife. I groaned.
I felt like I was sitting in church with the Three Stooges. Or maybe three toddlers.
We managed to make it through the rest of Mass without any further drama, but when we stood to leave, the other members maintained a polite, but obvious, distance. I led my band of heathens to the front of the church, hoping to get out without notice. Then I saw Father David purposely walking my way, and I inwardly cringed. Claire, oblivious, shuffled towards the upstairs offices, sniffing the air anxiously. Using her shifter abilities to find the coffee machine? David fell into step beside me, shooting furtive glances at Cain and Dorian who were speaking in low tones as if about a secret.
“You should join me,” Dorian said to Cain, sounding amused. I’d missed the first part of the exchange.
Cain grunted. “I can’t. I have a date tonight,” he murmured, avoiding eye contact.
“What trouble are you planning, Dorian?” I interrupted, frowning over at him.
Dorian’s face tightened, instinctively ready to lie so he could get back to pressing Cain for details on the date he obviously hadn’t wanted to discuss. “I have a board meeting tonight.”
Cain’s eyes momentarily widened in astonishment, but he quickly recovered. I studied the two of them suspiciously as we made our way up the stairs, Father David having given up on me to take the lead – well, more pursuing Claire’s uninvited intrusion into his inner sanctum, anyway.
“Board meeting… right. And you think Cain should go. Because… well, he’s just such an executive,” I said flatly.
“He has a… knack for ending arguments,” Dorian offered with a faint grin, but spoke it more like a question. “What about you, Callie? You free tonight?”
I shook my head. “I also have a date tonight.”
Cain frowned at Dorian, glossing over my comment. “Wait. You want me to kill your fellow Board members?” he asked, incredulous, but Dorian was staring at me in stunned disbelief.
“I would appreciate it if you didn’t talk about killing people in my church,” Father David said through gritted teeth, rounding on us now that we were out of public hearing and entering his private quarters. Claire – looking like a zombie – was pouring herself a cup of coffee on autopilot. She got maybe a half ounce of the liquid before it ran empty. She stared at it for a second, not able to process the situation. Then she threw the coffee pot across the room with a shriek of despair.
Chapter 15
Father David gasped, but Cain snatched it out of the air – using his superhuman speed to somehow get in front of it even though Claire hadn’t thrown it anywhere near him.
David placed his hands on his hips. “Do not throw my coffee pot!”
Claire stared back at him through bloodshot eyes that promised murder. “Unless your holy coffee pot can turn wine into coffee, it is of no use to me.”
Dorian swept in and placed an arm around her shoulder, guiding her to a couch. He withdrew a slim baggie of something white, murmuring softly.
“Hey!” I snapped at him. “You can’t just offer her drugs because she needs a pick-me-up. We’ll go get some coffee in a few minutes!”
Cain grunted, gently setting the coffee pot back in place. “That escalated quickly. From coffee to cocaine.” He shot Father David an apologetic look. “He’s a bad influence, Father David.”
This, coming from the man who had just casually discussed killing a group of board members.
Father David was too busy staring incredulously at Dorian – who had swiftly tucked the baggie back into his coat and was smiling crookedly. “Just offering options,” he said weakly. “A gift from some old pals downstairs.”
This, of course, made Father David livid. “My congregation does not deal drugs!”
“I’m sure he wasn’t implying that,” I said quickly, shooting a warning look at Dorian. He frowned back at me, rolled his eyes, and leaned back into the chair. Maybe he had meant downstairs figuratively, like demons or something. Claire was staring longingly at the pocket with the drugs beneath Dorian’s coat.
“Right. We need to go get some coffee,” I sighed.
Father David let out a breath. “I’ll join you. I have someone you need to meet, anyway.”
I frowned at that, but Claire was already tugging Dorian to the door ahead of us.
“What happened to you two last night? You look hungover,” Father David asked, not sounding pleased.
“We’re not hungover. Just a long night,” I answered, walking down the stairs.
“It’s not safe for a woman to be out late at night,” Cain mumbled behind us, as if speaking to himself. “Else how can she expect to have breakfast ready for her man in the morn—”
I darted back, grabbed a fistful of his shirt, wrapped my arm around his waist, and hip threw him over my shoulder and down the stairs. Father David hissed angrily, especially when Cain loudly rolled the rest of the way down, grunting and chuckling the whole way, the bastard. Conversation downstairs halted as the gathered congregation members hastily turned to check out the commotion. Cain barely missed a vase at the base of the steps.
But rolled right up to a group of older women. The Three.
A well-known group of older women always on the prowl for a fresh young stud. They had caused me trouble in the past, but I had eventually turned the other cheek, amused by their antics.
Like right about now.
They couldn’t help him get to his feet fast enough, groping handfuls of his body in the process, asking if he needed anything, an ice pack, to sit down, and didn’t they just make the best sweet tea in Kansas City? Cain played the buffoon, smiling as they copped feels, squeezed his arms, and patted his shoulders compassionately, admitting to them that he had just taken a fall from sheer clumsiness.
Claire strode up to the group, ignoring the three older women and staring straight into Cain’s soul from inches away. “You’re delaying my coffee run. Don’t do that.” Then she turned and stormed out of the church, Dorian hot on her heels.
Cain smiled sheepishly at the women and then followed her and Dorian out the door. I was just happy that the trio hadn’t seen Dorian or things would have gotten interesting. He might have even invited the women to one of his famous flesh parties.
I had no doubt they wou
ld take over the business after their first visit.
Father David made polite greetings as others noticed him, but one woman in particular caught his attention. An older woman with a sweet, grandmotherly face, but with the eyes of a vengeful goddess. From the looks of it, I don’t think anyone else saw past the smiling cheeks.
She wore a simple set of perfectly ironed Sunday Best – a skirt that reached her ankles, and a plain purple cashmere cardigan. David extended a hand to her, and she smiled back at him like a groupie at a rock concert. She let him guide her over to me by the elbow.
I quickly bit back my frown. This was who he wanted me to meet?
The woman took one look at me, and I could have sworn her eyes lit with fire. Not magical, but something much deadlier.
The merciless fires of a grandma who was about to teach me the error of my ways with a quiver of wooden spoons and a bar of soap. All while reciting the Book of Proverbs from memory.
Coffee was sounding better and better.
I opened my mouth to say hello when I felt a tug at my hip. I glanced down to see the young boy I had commandeered earlier. He smiled, nodding proudly. I pointedly didn’t look up at Father David, but it felt like an oven door had just opened from two feet away. He was pissed.
I slipped the kid a twenty-dollar-bill and he disappeared into the crowd before David could snatch him by the collar – although the good father did try.
Which left me with two angry adults glaring at me.
“You put him up to that stunt?” Father David hissed in a low tone, quiet enough to not be overheard by the rest of the congregation.
I shrugged. “I just encouraged him to always ask questions.”
“He asked me…” he kept his voice low, trying not to openly snarl, “if God is all knowing, omnipotent, and all powerful, can He make a rock that even He can’t lift?”
“From the mouths of babes…” I replied sheepishly.
Feathers and Fire Series Box Set 2 Page 7