Men never listen.
Unfortunately, Cleo had an entirely different look on her face than she had last night. It was the suicidal smile of one so devoted to their cause that nothing could sway them.
And the way she was gripping her vial let me know it was a hairline fracture away from being crushed—and that none of us would survive the result. Clenching a fist was faster than Cain drawing a blade, and I couldn’t see a way to use my magic to simultaneously lock up all five of her fingers without breaking the glass myself.
Cleo nodded, seeing the comprehension in my eyes. “If air touches the contents of this vial, we all die. And I put a drop of my blood inside, so if my heart stops, we all die.”
We nodded carefully so as not to startle her.
“It’s a shame, Callie. I had such a pleasant time speaking with you at the party. We could have even become friends, perhaps.”
“Still can, Cleo,” I suggested.
She shook her head sadly, but her eyes were feverish. “You should never have concerned yourself with Solomon’s Temple. It is not a prize for the uninitiated. This has been my life’s purpose, preparing for the day the Temple reappeared. I’ve spent decades of my life studying Solomon lore, preparing for this ultimate trial, this test of knowledge…The Song of Solomon. I even mastered potions to extend my years in the hopes I would live to see this day. I’ve walked the earth where the Temple once stood, tasted the air, dreaming I would one day walk in the Temple Gardens…” she said wistfully.
“Well, it’s open, now. Why don’t you just book a flight since you know where it is?” I asked.
Cleo cast me a very condescending look, one that almost made me wither in shame. “It never reappears in the same place twice. Everyone knows that.” She checked the clearing and the trees to make sure we were still alone.
“Waiting for a friend?” I asked, sensing a potential opportunity.
She scoffed. “The Sons of Solomon pretend to be a family, but everyone knows only one will enter the Temple at the end. It’s a game, using each other to progress, but not so far as to risk losing the ultimate prize to them.”
Sons of Solomon? I’d never heard of them, but they sounded like a pretty deadly book club.
“Which brings me back to you. I don’t know how you discovered the fountain in the first place, but I saw you take a picture of the message, so I’m going to need your phone. I’d rather not risk walking down there myself. All sorts of crazies sneaking around here this morning.”
“Give you the phone and you’ll let us live?” Cain asked carefully.
She shook her head. “I’m afraid this is the end to your quest. I cannot allow the Vatican to take my prize.”
I frowned openly. “The Vatican? I no longer work for the Vatican.”
She gave me a very dry, pointed look, indicating my scarf with a quick flick of her eyes. I cursed inwardly, remembering that my scarf had a big Cross Pattée on the front, and it must be showing. I didn’t bother arguing about it because, based on the conversation thus far, I was pretty sure she would have simply justified another reason to kill us for her precious Temple.
Long story short, she had no intention of letting us ever leave the park.
Chapter 17
Cain cleared his throat gently. “Give her the phone, Callie. We aren’t playing, remember?” He glanced at Cleo with a calming look. “Just the wrong place at the wrong time. We will even swear an oath not to search for the Temple.”
I nodded to Cleo, trying to look sincere. “I will swear to it. You can have the phone.” Cain was up to something, probably picking up on the fact that Cleo had no intention of letting us leave, sworn oath or not. But taking an aggressive stand was a great way for all three of us to die for our pride.
I slowly reached into my coat pocket, watching Cleo’s eyes as I withdrew my phone using my first two fingers, not my thumb—also the best way to pick pockets, believe it or not. My reason for using the grip was simple. It looked precarious and awkward, drawing the eyes.
It worked.
Cain had been watching for it, too, and was a heartbeat faster than me.
I didn’t even see him move. But I saw the spray of blood as he neatly severed her wrist and shoved us both clear of her potion. Cleo shrieked in agony, her free hand reaching up to grasp her stump before she even considered the potion falling to the earth.
“The Sons of Solomon will hunt you to the ends of the Earth!” she screamed. Cain and I rolled away frantically to escape the blast radius and I flung up my hand. A wall of liquid silver rose up between us, shielding me from the blast as the ground around her erupted with purple flame in a ten-foot-wide circle so hot that I felt the skin of my face tighten, despite my shield. I had never used my Silver magic to do that before, but I’d learned it was based on raw need, so my subconscious must have decided I needed some added protection from her potion.
Cain stared down at his dagger, frowning momentarily, but then he was tugging me to my feet. “Get us the fuck out of here!” he snarled, eyes scanning the woods around us for the next threat. I saw two more silhouettes racing our way, probably drawn to the blast, so I gripped Cain’s hand and focused my mind on Roland’s church to Shadow Walk us the fuck out of this crazy park.
I felt a tug of resistance like someone had bumped my funny bone, but my magic still seemed to work, yanking us away to safety—
I gasped in confusion to find that something had gone horribly wrong with my Shadow Walking, because I was somehow perched atop the damned fountain. And there were about a half-dozen new people in the vicinity, all keeping a cautious distance from each other.
Cain, still gripping my hand from Shadow Walking, had unfortunately appeared above the water rather than the fountain. The undefeated champion named gravity immediately grabbed him by the ankles and yanked him down, taking me right along with him. I snapped my lips shut at the last minute, remembering the pool was now spiked with blood from the flannel guy Cain had killed.
We struck the crisp water loudly enough that if any of the people around the fountain had failed to spot us appearing out of thin air above it, they had most definitely heard our splash at its base. They hadn’t been attacking each other, so were apparently all hesitant allies—Sons of Solomon, as Cleo had called them. Which sucked, because we were not an ally, and now had a dysfunctional family to stand up against.
I breached the shallow water and flung up my hand, calling upon my magical fan to catch the anticipated barrage of bullets as I tried to understand what had gone so wrong with my Shadow Walking. It hadn’t felt like an attack from a fellow wizard, but like something in the air itself had resisted my use of Shadow Walking. Maybe it was a ward to prevent some thieving wizard from jumping in at the last minute to steal the message they thought was a treasure map to Solomon’s Temple. They were going to be sorely disappointed if they ever read it, because the message had been totally unhelpful. Definitely not directions on how to find the Temple.
Cain, apparently not trusting, or not seeing, my defensive fan, abruptly tackled me back into the water just as bullets began to fly. He dragged me—unconcerned with my spluttering and choking—behind the massive throne as the bullets pinged and whined off the beautiful marble.
He gripped my shoulders, staring at me with a frantic expression, likely wondering why the hell I had sent us to the top of the fountain rather than Roland’s church.
“It wasn’t me!” I hissed. “Something’s messing with my magic,” I told him, feeling slightly panicked at my sudden failed magic. What the hell was going on?
The realization that our escape now rested firmly on his shoulders turned his face into a grim, determined mask. Like he had rolled up his sleeves for a day’s work. He was a warrior, not a sneaky wizard. Which meant blood would soon flow if our escape plan was solely up to him. And with the number of guns and potions just around the corner—and my magic unpredictable—one of us might not be making it to Roland’s church.
“We’re goi
ng to have to kill them all. They won’t listen to reason,” he growled, eyes alert to either side. “You ready?” he asked, shaking me to get my attention.
I nodded woodenly, understanding that he was probably right. These Sons of Solomon were freaking insane. Whoever they were. I frowned suddenly, realizing the guns had stopped firing.
Cain gritted his teeth, taking it as a sign of worse danger. He shoved me flat against the marble throne and peered around the corner quickly. Almost immediately, he jerked back, his face pale and disbelieving like he had just seen Abel’s ghost.
“Shit,” he breathed, eyes dancing wildly. I stared at him, waiting for something more helpful. But that was pretty much the extent of his analysis.
“What?” I hissed, glancing over my shoulder to make sure we weren’t being flanked.
“The Last Breath,” Cain whispered in a haunted tone, holding his finger to his lips for me to be silent. “Maybe he didn’t notice us.”
Seeing the raw terror in Cain’s eyes, I didn’t argue or badger him with questions. As a rule, Cain never got scared. He actually relished the fight. Even the fear of death—if such a thing was possible for the immortal murderer. But this Last Breath person had him shaken.
He slowly crouched down into the shallow water, motioning for me to do the same after pointing out the drops of water falling from my clothes. I didn’t point out that the sound of the gurgling fountain probably masked the sound of a few drops, and instead obeyed his request. We sat in the shadow of the throne, and I was suddenly grateful that the moon didn’t reach us.
Cain leaned in close, his face almost unclear in the darkness as he pressed me against the wall and literally breathed an update into my ear, softer than a hummingbird flapping his wings. “They are all dead.”
My hair might have climbed off my scalp at that. Half a dozen people murdered without a sound? What the hell? Cain nodded and slowly lifted a finger to his lips. I tried to calm my racing heart, the gentle lapping tickling the base of my chin as we sat in the bloody water, eyes dancing about for any sign of threat. Michael had warned me that an answer to my three problems was imminent, that I needed to learn how to use the Seal of Solomon to lock up Nameless, among other things.
Right before a deadly quest leading to Solomon’s Temple plopped into my lap. I wasn’t sure how any of it actually tied into his warnings, nevertheless it seemed to be related. But how in the world was I supposed to find the Temple before these Sons of Solomon—who had spent their entire lives researching Solomon lore, waiting for this exact day? I knew pretty much nothing about Solomon, even though I was his descendent, and the message on the fountain had sure seemed to confer that a whole lot of wisdom and mental acrobatics would be needed to win.
But none of that mattered right now. Because some psychopath named Last Breath was here.
And I couldn’t Shadow Walk us to safety. Either my quest was over before it had begun…
Or we stayed silently sitting in this dark pool, hoping Last Breath wasn’t smart enough to walk around the back of the fountain. Overall, this was a very unique experience for me. To sit in the dark and hide from a monster, like a Regular. I almost cried out as I saw a form silently stalking near the tree line, its back to us.
Last Breath.
It seemed to be sniffing the air, moving in utter silence on two legs like a man, but it was significantly larger than any human I had ever seen. Since it kept to the shadows of the trees, the moon did not illuminate it clearly. But it seemed to be wearing all white, almost smoking with white vapor of some kind. A concealment spell?
Cain gripped my arm tighter, drawing me lower into the water so that only my eyes were above the surface. I held my breath and watched as the silhouette abruptly darted closer in a white blur, trailing along the ledge of the pool now. His sapphire blue eyes seemed to sparkle despite no light hitting them. Like two tiny blue flames. But…he wasn’t in the shadows any longer, so why was the moon not illuminating him?
Those eyes locked directly onto mine for a few heart-stopping moments and I fought not to move or even blink, hoping that the shadow of the throne was dark enough to hide us.
Those blue eyes held death like an old blanket. He was death. He was all.
I had never felt so small in my entire life. When I had seen Nate Temple step out of literal Hell, his eyes hadn’t been that cold. Not by a long shot.
Then the figure was gone, completing his circuit of the fountain. Cain squeezed tighter, meeting my eyes. He slowly lifted his lips above the water. He opened his mouth, not even breathing the words, just moving his lips. Deep breath. Long time. Then he mimed taking a deep, silent breath, and lowered his head entirely underwater.
I did the same, as quietly as possible, trying not to disturb the water in the slightest. I was beginning to feel the cold settling into my bones but judging by the look in Cain’s eyes I didn’t dare disobey. The moment before I submerged, I looked up to see that Last Breath was now perched on the ledge itself, its two blue eyes, scanning right to left in my direction, not even a dozen paces away. All I could make out was a large white blur as if he was the color of the moon, only his icy blue eyes were crystal clear.
The cold water enveloped me a moment before his gaze reached me, and it was all I could do not to open my eyes under the water—even knowing it was full of blood—because I felt like I had just kissed death on the nose.
Cain gripped my hand and squeezed tightly, trying to reassure me.
I don’t think I ever held my breath that long before. Definitely a record. I even waited until I was seeing stars through my eyelids before risking a breath.
My eyes opened almost immediately as I fought not to shiver. Last Breath was gone.
Cain still made us wait fifteen minutes before we dared risk exiting the pool.
I would have waited thirty minutes without an argument. Hell, I would have spent an hour in that cold water. I don’t think I’d ever felt so helpless in my entire life. Not even when I’d had my first run-in with the supernatural as a teen in that dark alley when Claire and I had been assaulted. When Roland had saved us, introducing me to the world of magic.
Speaking of…I decided a girl could use a father figure after an experience like that. Cain didn’t argue. Perhaps he needed a father figure, too.
Chapter 18
We burst into Roland’s church like the dogs of Hell were on our heels, slamming the massive wooden door behind us with a loud thud that echoed through the decrepit building. We were both panting as we leaned our backs against it.
Cain closed his eyes with a relieved sigh. “Too close. Way too fucking close, Callie.”
I closed my eyes, too, murmuring my agreement. I had stored some extra clothes and weapons here and knew Roland would have something for Cain to change into. We could dry off, warm up, talk to Roland, and try to figure out what we wanted to do next. Per my new rules, I just needed to focus on two steps at a time—
A throat cleared, making me jump and my eyes shoot wide open.
At the end of the nave, near the pulpit, two men stood beside some lawn chairs and one of those cheap, standing fire pits found at most home improvements stores—but those didn’t typically blaze with crimson flames. Only Roland’s fire pits did that.
Roland’s crimson eyes pinned me to the door like spears, looking a little wild around the edges—flashing from relieved, to suddenly very, very concerned.
Because he wasn’t alone. A second man stared at us from across the nave.
Looks like I found my two steps, I thought to myself, climbing to my feet. I straightened my coat and met Cain’s eyes, silently asking if he knew the second man. Cain shook his head almost imperceptibly. We made our way to the pulpit, both staring at the fire hungrily. Even if it was wizard’s fire, it promised warmth.
“You’re alive,” Roland growled as we reached the fire, his voice dripping with fury.
I maintained a safe distance from the stranger, ignoring the curious look in his eyes as I
turned to Roland. Something about his face told me not to speak anything that I didn’t want made public, but I only knew that because I had known Roland my whole life.
“Alive, but cold. Rough night,” I told him, voice neutral.
“What she said,” Cain agreed, folding his arms as he placed himself between me and the stranger. A sudden shriek from deep within the bowels of the church made me jolt. It sounded like a man being tortured. I arched a brow at Roland.
“Le Bone,” he said in a flat tone. “May I introduce Miss Callie Penrose and Cain,” Roland said, holding out a hand to us. “And this is Henri Bellerose, the Master Vampire of Paris. He just finished a private conversation with Le Bone,” he added with a meaningful smirk.
My skin crawled at that, suddenly realizing—in a vague way—why Le Bone had screamed loud enough for us to hear upstairs. It must have been a very difficult conversation for Le Bone.
Henri smiled pleasantly, nodding at Cain and then me. Those eyes were too inquisitive for my tastes. “A rose by any other name would smell as sweet…”
My eyes narrowed, and I opened my mouth to put him in his place for attempting flirtation, but he waved a hand good-naturedly.
“My name is Henri Bellerose, and you are Callie Penrose,” he explained, emphasizing the rose in both our names. Le Bone shrieked again, and Henri shrugged innocently. “I wanted to verify the allegations for myself. Le Bone’s guilt weighs heavily on his soul, as you can tell by his shameful whimpering. I hear I have you to thank for the evidence,” he said, smiling gratefully.
I nodded slowly, careful not to gloat at the psychopath. “Yes.”
“Then, thank you,” he said with a dip of his chin.
Henri was a handsome man with rich brown hair held back in a ponytail. His features were harsh and angular, his jawline sharp enough to deflect a sword, and his eyes twinkled with a gray so pale they were almost white. He was very tall and lithe, like a scarecrow, but I knew it was a deception. Something about him screamed power and strength—like a cheetah. Perhaps not as large and intimidating as his brethren wildcat felines, but as if he lived on the edge, always a breath away from a brutal, whip-quick lethality.
Feathers and Fire Series Box Set 2 Page 38