Solomon nodded. “Now that you’ve earned your place here, I can show you how to use the Seal to return,” he said, smiling. The Seal of Solomon was a heavy silver ring to all outward appearances, but it was also a prison for a surprising number of demons. And I wore it on a finger. Solomon had just put Nameless inside the ring, relieving me of the shadow ring that had lived on my thumb for a while.
Still, having demons wrapped around your finger wasn’t as cool as it sounded. I could hear them sometimes, if I tried hard enough.
I had chosen to wear it on my right ring finger in case I wanted to punch someone in the face in the near future. It had slipped over my finger like warm oil—a perfect fit, even though I’d worn it on a different finger a few times. The Seal formed itself to me, no matter where I wanted to wear it, and I knew it couldn’t just fall off on its own.
Solomon smiled at it wistfully. “Just kiss it to come back home—or to leave the Temple. It is very similar to Shadow Walking in that regard, although Shadow Walking won’t allow you to enter the Temple or leave it. Consider it a private elevator with keycard access. Just imagine where you want to be and kiss your ring.”
I stared down at it, shaking my head. It was still a large ring—looking too large for a woman’s finger—but it also looked…right. “Will that let me bring others back with me?” I asked, thinking of Cain.
Solomon nodded. “Like Shadow Walking, just maintain contact with them. Though I advise you not to bring too many people here. The less who know of this place, the safer you are…” he said soberly. Not warning me against the prospect of inviting my friends over for a sleepover, but a literal warning that if people knew I had access to the Temple, I would likely become a target.
I nodded. “I understand.”
“I shall make you a Gateway out,” he said, motioning for me to follow him. I turned to see Richard and Cain immediately stiffen beside each other—as if I had caught them in the middle of something they weren’t supposed to be doing. “Boys,” I said, motioning for them to follow.
Richard cast a meaningful look at Solomon. “You need to tell her—”
Phix hissed loud enough for me to flinch. “No,” she snapped. “She needs to go home first. The rest can wait. She can’t afford the distraction. She needs to see for herself.”
Solomon nodded his agreement. “She is right. Nothing has changed. What will be, will be.” I frowned at them, turning from one to the other. Solomon held up a hand, forestalling me. “It can wait,” he said firmly.
Richard didn’t look the least bit pleased, but he also seemed to accept Solomon’s decision. He just didn’t look happy about it. Maybe I would pester him about it on our travels.
This was going to be a long day. But I anticipated needing all the help I could get, depending on how close Roland had stuck to his promise. And hearing Phix say I needed to see for myself was not even remotely reassuring.
Chapter 3
Cain and I stepped through Solomon’s Gateway—his magic seemed entirely different than mine. His Gateway crackled strangely, as if fighting itself. I turned back to examine it and saw veins of black webbed throughout the orange sparks—as if it was protesting his command—and it seemed to hum with a grating squeal like feedback on a radio. Solomon stared through the Gateway at us, wincing as if in pain. He saw the look of concern on my face and held up a hand in answer. Seeing the black veins on his forearms and the strain on his face wasn’t a good combination, only serving to increase my alarm. “Don’t worry about me. When you’re ready to return, just use your ring like I showed you.”
I glanced down at the Seal of Solomon on my finger, nodding. I wondered if his ability to make his own Gateway was something that came with age or if it was a result of him being the patriarch of our bloodline. I also wondered if my ability to use the Silvers—that mysterious magic that I could tap into but didn’t entirely understand—was some extension of my ties to Solomon or something else my parents had done.
I’d heard answers, but I was hesitant to believe everything I’d been told.
It had been one of the many things I had wanted to talk to Solomon about, but Kansas City needed me now. Personal questions could wait.
The Gateway winked shut, but not before Richard and Phix stepped through after us. We stood in the warm Kansas City night, the air pregnant with humidity, letting me know we had missed a heavy rain. Luckily, we hadn’t appeared in the middle of a busy intersection or anything. In fact, we were in an alley a block away from Roland’s church. I set my feet and began walking, eyes alert for any sign of danger. I realized I was smiling absently as Phix hissed and snarled about the moist air matting her fur. Cats.
Cain abruptly flung out a hand, halting my advance. I met his eyes, not bothering to hide my impatience. “A lot can happen in a year,” he said gently. “We need to be careful.”
Phix was eerily silent in the darkness. So silent that she may as well have been shouting. She pointed a paw ahead, silently repeating that I needed to see for myself.
Cain nodded at her and then turned to me. “Fabrizio was the last one to see us. And Roland sent us to Fabrizio, warning what he would do if anything happened to you…”
He obviously had an inkling of what was going on but was choosing not to share details. He knew me well enough to know I was a firm believer in seeing things for myself so why was he offering commentary without substance? Was he trying to justify things? Or maybe come to grips with whatever Phix had obviously told him. Either way, it wasn’t good.
I shook my head stubbornly. “I know what Roland promised, but I just can’t imagine him following through with it. Going to war? And all his talk about terrorizing the city? That’s just…insane. Fabrizio had to have told him about us leaving through the Doors.”
Cain gave me a very significant look. “You mean that Last Breath chased us into the Doors,” he said, pointing his thumb at Richard. I grimaced, having forgotten that small detail. To Fabrizio’s recollection, we had been chased into the Doors by Last Breath. If Fabrizio or Roland saw Last Breath, they wouldn’t bother asking questions. They would kill on sight.
“Damn it,” I cursed, kicking an empty beer can behind a dumpster. At least Richard wasn’t recognizable in his current form. I hoped.
“You saw the changes in Roland, Callie,” Cain continued. “You…might have been the only one holding him together after his…change.”
I sighed. “I know. Which is why we need to show him that I’m alive and well. Any fights he has picked in my absence can be resolved like that,” I said, snapping my fingers.
Phix snorted. “The Red Pastor has done quite a bit more than picking fights, Callie. Why do you think I went looking for you in the first place?” she asked. She glanced up at the night sky and actually shuddered ever so slightly. I realized her fur was slightly raised, as if someone had rubbed it the wrong way and she wasn’t remotely pleased.
I met her gaze, not liking the nickname she had so casually tossed out. The Red Pastor. “How bad is it, Phix?”
She regarded me thoughtfully and finally licked her lips with a yawn. “Listen to the air. Can you not hear the fear? Taste the anguish? The tension practically tickles my tongue.” Everyone shot her various flavors of disgusted looks until she finally lifted a paw and pointed towards the alley opening. “See for yourself. Carefully. Unseen eyes watch the streets these days…”
Without further ado, I crept closer to the end of the alley, keeping close to the wall. As I moved, I began to pick up on what Phix was referring to. It did feel tense. Like the city was holding her breath. I’d been at a music concert once when someone had called in a credible bomb threat. I had been stuck inside the building for hours. The level of paranoia and fear had increased to a palpable scent and sensation with each passing minute as we awaited status updates on the threat.
Or, one final update heralded by an explosion.
The air felt exactly like I remembered from the concert—a calm before the storm. Or…the
fear of attracting the attention of those who had brought on the last storm. Phix was right. Whatever had happened in Kansas City had not been pleasant.
I took a calming breath, trying to find my center. I remembered the epiphany I had learned from my journey through the Doors. I had entered in search of answers—about my past, but also about my future. About what kind of person I wanted to become. I had been involved, or loosely affiliated, with many groups and causes over the years, but none had ever truly felt like I could permanently rally behind them.
I had always felt like an outsider. A very angry, unstable outsider—especially recently.
I’d earned a reputation for stalking the streets in the night and killing bad guys. That reputation had grown like wildfire through the supernatural community, primarily because I was untethered to a specific cause or group. I quite literally had played judge, jury, and executioner for Kansas City. Answerable to no one and held accountable by no one.
The fact that I hadn’t shared my manifesto with anyone had only terrified them further. The creed, rules, or laws that defined what I deemed a crime had never been shared, and since no one knew who I might possibly be working with, they had simply avoided me like the plague.
It wasn’t exactly difficult to realize what I found right and wrong, punishable and forgivable. Well, not to me. Then again, these Freaks often played on somewhat grayer fields, the line between right and wrong more a suggestion rather than a law of nature.
They were, after all, monsters.
My journey through the Doors had taught me that I was done playing games, picking sides, being angry. That I simply wanted to do good by my city. To keep those who couldn’t protect themselves safe. To be…well, not to get too ironic, but a Shepherd. Not for the Vatican, but for my city.
Like most governments, I felt the Conclave and Shepherds had gotten too political over the years. Political might not have been the correct word, but it was a close synonym. Large groups with power often adopted ulterior motives and objectives as time stretched on. I felt that the Vatican Shepherds, somewhere over the years, had lost their way. Forgotten their true purpose—to look after the weak.
Of course, the parties involved in a war often grew jaded, and it wasn’t a stretch to consider the Vatican Shepherds as an army in a millennia long war. It wasn’t necessarily their fault, but it was a fault. Their creed was tarnished or possibly long lost and forgotten on some past battlefield.
But I was done with group-think. I was going to form my own family and, if nothing else, be a thorn in the side of anyone who wanted to bring trouble to Kansas City.
Even if that trouble was brought on by Roland, my old mentor.
Cain rested a hand on my shoulder and I almost jumped out of my skin. “Jesus!” I snapped in a hissing sputter.
Cain cocked his head. “Sorry. You were just standing there, staring at nothing. Roland’s church is right around the corner. Maybe you should try calling him before you consider waltzing up to the front door. Seeing you alive and in person when he thinks you’re dead might be a little too much for the old boy to handle,” he said meaningfully.
I took a calming breath. “No. He’s old school. He wouldn’t trust a phone call. He would demand a meet and then arrive with his guard and suspicion up, likely with Paradise and Lost, assuming it’s a trap. Surprise is best. That moment of confusion will be our friend. Our best chance to get through to him.”
Cain raised one eyebrow in a doubtful rictus but finally sighed. He checked the dagger in his belt and shot Richard a meaningful look, silently encouraging him to look alert. Richard’s eyes flickered with blue flame in the dark alley and he grew unnaturally still.
I held out a hand, stalling them. “We’re not an invading army. Cain and I will get a good look at the church. You two keep an eye out behind us. We don’t want anyone sneaking up on us from behind.”
Cain followed my lead to the edge of the alley as Phix and Richard turned to watch back the way we had come.
I took cover behind a dumpster and peered out.
Roland’s church—the one I had bought for him—looked very different than I remembered. It wasn’t necessarily physically different, but it had an…aura about it that was new. It stood out like a fistful of wicked daggers stabbing up at the heavens. The old gothic structure was adorned with crenellations, tall stone spires, and it was replete with gargoyles, angels, and other mythological creatures perched on the roof. Light bloomed inside the building, but the windows had all been replaced with crimson glass. Or perhaps there was a crimson light within. Roland’s magic seemed to be tainted crimson after he became a vampire, but to have that much red illumination within meant he was currently using a hellish amount of power.
Except…I didn’t necessarily feel a storm of power within.
As I scanned the nightscape, I realized that the moon in the sky also seemed to have a faint reddish hue to it, as if the sky itself was tinted.
Like a snow globe of red glass. Just without the snow.
And vampires were everywhere. I saw them leaning against the low wall surrounding the church property, standing in a huddle smoking near the newspaper stand across the street, under the awning of a bar around the corner, all in groups of two or three within easy sight of the church—covering all angles. None of them looked particularly secretive, as if not bothering to hide their natures. I caught the reflections of light in their eyes and noticed many had a crimson glow to them—which was very strange. That had been a very uncommon feature about Roland—his crimson eyes.
Paradise and Lost—his adopted werewolves—had formed a bond with him, and as a result also had crimson eyes, so did that mean all these vampires were bonded to Roland in a similar fashion? Why would Haven, the Master Vampire of Kansas City, allow that?
And what were all these vampires doing here? Hanging out in the open, obviously acting shady? What about the police? The locals? It wasn’t late enough for the city to be quiet, but I didn’t see a single car on the streets. At least none that were moving.
I ducked lower as I realized that silhouettes also lined the roof on the building across from the church—sentinels keeping an eye on everything from a higher vantage point. And they had rifles that they weren’t bothering to hide.
I slowly looked back at Cain, feeling stunned. “What the hell is going on here?” I asked hoarsely. “Shouldn’t these guys all be at Haven’s compound? Keeping the Master of Kansas City safe?”
Cain cast me a sickly look, eyes flicking to Phix as if for backup, but she didn’t offer aid. He winced. “Haven…is dead, Callie. Roland is the Master of Kansas City, now…”
I blinked stupidly, wondering if I’d heard—
My world suddenly flashed white and my body locked up in pain. I stared up at the sky, confused by the ringing in my ears. I groaned, my hands shaking as I blinked rapidly, trying to roll over or climb to my feet. Why was no one standing over me, trying to help me to my feet like the overprotective mother hens they all usually were?
I felt hungover—dazed—but not necessarily injured. Cain had said something…but my head felt stuffed with wool. My arms shook as I managed to prop myself up. I saw a figure walking away from the outside of the alley, heading in the direction of Roland’s church. I narrowed my eyes, not recalling having seen him a moment ago. Why did he look vaguely familiar? “Take care of the demon,” he said over his shoulder before disappearing from view.
Chapter 4
A whooshing, whipping sound abruptly zipped just over my face, trailed by a crackling current of electricity that made my hair rise up on end. Phix let out a shockingly loud yowl and I heard the crackling hiss of live current and the smell of singed hair. Adrenaline suddenly roared through my veins at the near miss, snapping me out of my daze. I scrambled to my feet to see Phix trapped under a web of snapping electricity, a menacing black spear embedded in her side. What the hell? An ambush? How had none of us noticed a scent?
How long had I been knocked down?
Before I had time to jump up and free her, six figures dropped from the fire escape above, blocking me from Phix, and laughing loudly. Two of them peeled off to fight Richard—still in his human form but his eyes glowing fiery blue—and two peeled off to fight Cain—who seemed to be struggling to get back to his feet as well. What the hell had knocked us all down? That flash of white light. That faintly familiar man who had left us for his men to clean up like we were trash.
I narrowed my eyes murderously at the remaining balance of the six-pack of attackers, deciding they had insufficient funds for the transaction. “Let go of my friend and I won’t feed you to her,” I warned, my voice quivering with uncontrollable rage. I was still slightly dazed from whatever had hit me in the head, but it was masked by my bubbling fury.
I briefly wondered why Cain hadn’t made short work of his two before diving in to steal mine. I glanced back to see him lying on the ground about ten feet away, struggling to regain his feet as more than the two men I had seen took turns kicking at him while he was down—four on one. And in full view of the vampires we had seen guarding the church.
I slowly turned back to the three—wait, there had been two a moment ago!—men in front of me. Richard also had more than two to contend with, now, but he looked to be holding his own for the moment. Where the fuck were they all coming from?
“What’s the meaning of this?” I snarled, my skin practically vibrating with the need for violence. Especially as I saw the pool of blood spreading beneath Phix and her efforts at struggling growing weaker and weaker, like a fish too long out of water.
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