Trinity: Feathers and Fire Book 9 Page 17

  Pettiness, thy name is Callie Penrose.

  As I smiled at my cruelty, I swept my eyes over the parking lot, not picking up any damage or signs of attack. No sulfur in the air and no bloodstains. I frowned, growing uneasy as I turned to approach the church’s back door.

  I froze as my eyes settled on the black katana embedded in the wood. My heart skipped a beat and my knuckles creaked as I squeezed the hilt of my sword.

  Ryuu’s Angel Killer. I watched a drop of blood fall to the steps and I felt my fangs pop out as raw fury swept over me like a wildfire. The sword pinned a small piece of paper to the door. I bolted up the steps, grabbed the paper and yanked the Angel Killer out of the wood, feeling like my heart was about to explode it was beating so fast.

  I shuddered, sucking in short breaths as I tried to unfold the paper. My hands were shaking so violently that I almost dropped the note, especially when I saw a drop of blood on it. Acting without thinking, I lifted the paper to my nose and inhaled. I immediately grew dizzy at the vintage bouquet of centuries of existence contained in that single drop of blood and I knew, with absolute certainty, that it belonged to Ryuu. I could taste him in the air. The hundreds of years of war, the thousands of victims to this blade, and the very essence of the man himself all resided in that single drop of blood. It was almost like I had gained a greater understanding of the man, his principles, his philosophies, his passions, his vices and his virtues, in that single sniff. It was dizzying and I almost felt drunk at the influx of awareness.

  My life forever changed in that moment—both in my perception of myself, and the realization of how I truly felt for the shinobi Halo Breaker. It was almost as if I had watched childhood videos of little Ryuu—but dating back more than one thousand years. I knew him better than I had minutes ago. Smelling his blood, and the hundreds of answers I gained from it, had altered the course of my future.

  “You’re a vampire, Callie,” I whispered, the paper trembling in my hands.

  There was no more lying to myself, pretending nothing about me had changed, or pretending I was different than my predecessors and my followers. I was Count Dracula—the greatest vampire in the world.

  My fangs, my erratic and unpredictable ability to measure heartbeats, and now my insane sense of smell. I might be very different from those in the Sanguine Council and the fledgling Nephilim vampires, but I was also the same.

  Some parts of me were now more similar to a vampire than a human. I still had no desire to drink blood—from any type of being—but I was eerily aware of the numerous dimensions of blood, something I had never before considered. The scent of Ryuu’s blood had taken me back in time, sending me images of him in hundreds of different battles in hundreds of different locations against all different types of men, monsters, and even angels.

  Blood was life. Blood was death. Blood was vengeance. Blood was all. With the scent of Ryuu’s blood filling my nostrils, I knew that there was absolutely nothing I wouldn’t do to get him back. Nothing was off limits.

  With that determination firmly embedded in my mind, I read the words on the page, feeling my blood grow cold and my soul shrugging off any sense of morality.

  Tell a single soul and he dies. Meet me at noon on Chateau Falco’s front lawn if you want to see him alive again. —Peter.

  I lowered the paper, staring into the middle distance as I clenched my jaw and gripped the hilt of Ryuu’s katana, imagining that I could sense his calm lethality flowing into me. I licked the tips of my fangs with my tongue, drawing and tasting my own blood. It hit me like a jolt of electricity or an energy drink. Peter was the name of one of the saints, so did that mean the Nephilim had taken Ryuu? That seemed highly unlikely, given Ryuu’s skills—almost like saying a gang of toddlers had jumped a professional boxer. And if it was the Nephilim, why had they left his legendary sword? The weapon most capable of killing an Archangel would be a prize beyond comparison. And why meet at Chateau Falco? Was that a warning that the Nephilim and angels were going after Nate’s people? I almost pitied them for such a foolish tactic.

  No. This couldn’t be Heaven. The fact that the note referenced Chateau Falco made me pause. Hadn’t Nate mentioned a man named Peter from St. Louis? An enemy of his. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I snarled. “Another person to worry about in addition to the shitnado already tearing through Kansas City?” I muttered under my breath. I swept my gaze over the stairs and parking lot, spinning in a slow circle to look for any additional clues or evidence. Where were Lucky and Xylo—

  I gasped, noticing Xylo curled up on the ground, tucked against the wall behind two trash cans, and not wearing any disguise whatsoever. An aged ivory and silver infused skeleton, wearing his crimson cowl and a pair of…

  Air Jordans? What the hell? When had Cain taken him to get those?

  The embers and sparks connecting his bones still flickered, but very weakly as if they were fading.

  “Xylo!” I whispered, terrified as I leapt over the stair railing.

  30

  I assumed he was relatively unharmed. But anyone could have stumbled across him and they would have freaked the fuck out to see an obviously long-dead skeleton outside a church. He was supposed to be disguised from detection when out in public—wearing a long coat and hat, at least. I leapt off the stairs and knelt over him, scanning him for injuries. Xylo couldn’t be killed as far as I knew, but I’d also thought he couldn’t sleep. He didn’t need food or any of the other essentials mortals required, so why was he unconscious—as if he’d gotten his ass kicked? I didn’t see any wounds.

  “Xylo,” I hissed, shaking his shoulder.

  I felt our connection flare to the forefront of my thoughts the moment I touched him. He woke up with a dry gasp and a flare of embers and sparks that made me recoil, lifting my hand up to shield my face. “Callie!” he hissed, jerking his smokey, hollow-eyed gaze in every direction as if fearing an ambush. “Where’s my cowboy hat? My trench coat is gone, too!” he snarled, rapping his finger bones against his head. “I’m naked!”

  I place a hand on his sternum. “Easy, Xylo. Speak softly and we should be safe. No one else is here. What happened?”

  He sat up, nodding uneasily. “Where is the teddy bear?”

  I stared at him. “Teddy bear?”

  He nodded, seeming to relax a hair upon noticing we weren’t under assault. “That’s the last thing I remember,” he said. “Did Ryuu catch him?”

  “Catch who, Xylo? You’re the only one here,” I said, forcing myself not to throttle him. “And this,” I whispered, showing him the note and Ryuu’s deadly katana.

  Xylo froze, staring at it. “Oh, no. I have failed you,” he moaned, clasping his finger bones over his mandible.

  I glanced over my shoulder, verifying we were still alone. “Tell me what happened, Xylo. Where is Lucky?”

  Xylo nodded, lowering his hand. “Lucky left about ten minutes into our search, telling us he was hungry. He disappeared before Ryuu even had a chance to say no—”

  I sputtered incredulously. “Hungry?” I hissed. “He’s the most wanted man in town, even if no one can recognize him!” I growled.

  Xylo nodded. “Ryuu and I continued on, trailing Legion to Dorian Gray’s house. There was a party inside, so we couldn’t sneak in. He didn’t stay there long, and we followed him here to this place,” he said, glancing up at the church. “The parking lot was empty and I heard a boot scuff the gravel over there,” he said, pointing to a spot a few feet away. “I turned around and saw a stuffed teddy bear flying at my face. I caught it on instinct. Then, nothing. I fell asleep,” he murmured, obviously ashamed.

  I frowned in disbelief. “A stuffed animal? You didn’t see who threw it?” I demanded in a low growl. Who the hell made enchanted teddy bears that could knock you out on contact? That was fucked up beyond all belief.

  Xylo shook his head, miserably. “I didn’t see.”

  I gritted my teeth, debating what to do. I had an hour before I needed to be at Cha
teau Falco to supposedly get Ryuu back alive, but they had tracked Legion here. “Did Legion go inside?” I whispered, eyeing the church to make sure we couldn’t be seen from a window.

  Xylo shook his head. “We didn’t see him go inside. Ryuu was checking the parking lot to see if Legion had simply walked through it. That’s when I got hit by the stuffed animal. I didn’t sense anyone at all, so whoever attacked was exceedingly powerful.”

  Had Legion noticed their pursuit and led them into a trap? Xylo wasn’t necessarily conspicuous, not with a trench coat and a cowboy hat. Especially if they’d been following him long enough to go to Dorian Gray’s house and then back across town to the church.

  I frowned up at the building, thinking. It was highly unlikely that a Sin had taken up residence here. They’d take one look at Greta and abandon their cause. Also, Fabrizio lived here, and he knew all about the Sins. I knew they could go about their day undetected, shifting, which meant that they could look like anyone. But I’d also seen Fabrizio’s ward, and that thing would have booted even an Archdemon on his ass or at least tear away his disguise. It hadn’t even let me inside.

  I frowned at a sudden thought. Had the defensive rune kicked my ass because I was a vampire? It hadn’t affected Greta, even though it had sent me tumbling down the stairs. And Fabrizio had given me a strange look upon realizing I’d triggered it. Yet he hadn’t mentioned it after the fact, which was strange.

  Which meant that, without Fabrizio, there was no chance I could get inside now, even if I saw Legion doing the dab at me through the window. Which left me only one choice.

  I turned to Xylo. “I need you to go to Castle Dracula and help Roland. He’s transporting the vampires from the Sanguine Council there, and he will need your logistical help in finding them all places to sleep and food to eat.”

  Xylo gave me a crestfallen look, eyeing Ryuu’s sword. “I failed you,” he said, obviously seeing my order as a punishment.

  I shook my head. “If they managed to overpower Ryuu, I don’t think there was anything you could have done to stop it. I can’t have you walking around town without a disguise, and I need someone I trust to keep an eye on Castle Dracula,” I said, meaningfully. He knew all about the likelihood of Archangels and Archdemons infiltrating the place.

  He nodded. I didn’t dare drag things out, so I made a Gateway right in front of him. “Go. I’ll be back soon, and I’ll want an update on the vampires. Keep your eyeholes open,” I said with a cold smile. “Some of our guests might very well be Sins in disguise.”

  He tugged his hood up and the smoke in his eyes grew black as night. “The Bone Heir King will rise to the challenge, standing firm against the forces of Hell,” he vowed.

  I didn’t have the heart to prick his bubble with a discussion about phrasing, so I gave him a solemn nod. “Thank you, Xylo. Observe, but don’t engage. We can’t let them know we know. I’ll find you after I save Ryuu.”

  He nodded and then leapt through the Gateway to Castle Dracula. I closed it behind him and rose to my feet, gripping Ryuu’s katana in one hand and the note in the other. I stared down at the paper, my vision turning crimson at the edges as rage consumed me. “You will wish you had never been born, Peter,” I promised, licking my silver fangs. “I will eat your heart for daring to take mine,” I growled, imagining Ryuu in shackles and beaten to a pulp in some cold, wet, danky cell. Ryuu was not the type of man to obey his jailers or cooperate with their interrogations, which meant his torture would come sooner rather than later. I realized I was panting wildly, so I closed my eyes and took a calming breath. I slipped the Angel Killer over my shoulder, feeling the power of Aphrodite’s suit grip it like a magnet.

  I closed my eyes, focusing on nothing but a slowly rotating chrome feather in a dark void, forcing myself to think clearly over my fury. Peter. I was certain Nate had mentioned the name before, but I had heard it more recently than that. I focused on my breathing, using counts of five to inhale, hold, and then exhale as I let my mind wander, simmering over the situation. Less than a minute later, I opened my eyes with a grunt.

  When Gunnar had woken me up this morning with his phone call, he’d mentioned something about Grimm Tech being broken into during the night. By two men, Peter and Alaric. I’d been groggy from sleep and then thrown off balance by the fact that Hermes had spoken with Gunnar and Alucard about Nate’s mysteriously dubious, likely fraudulent, travel itinerary on Olympian Airlines.

  And then Aphrodite had dropped by the park to warn me about events swirling around Nate. Were our two worlds colliding as a result of this man, Peter? Was he a pawn for Zeus’ schemes? Was this what Aphrodite had been trying to tell me? The pre-war to end the Omega War? If so, there was no room for half measures. Whatever reason Peter had for taking Ryuu, the only acceptable response was blood, fire, and brimstone. The Horseman of Despair would ride through the streets of St. Louis, leaving death and destruction in her wake until she found her shinobi warrior, the Halo Breaker.

  If Olympus had to fall as a result…

  So. Be. It.

  I pulled out my phone and made a call. “Gunnar,” I growled by way of greeting. “We need to have a chat.”

  “I was just about to call you,” he said, sounding suspicious and wary.

  “Funny, I was just about to head to St. Louis. You mentioned a break-in at Grimm Tech this morning,” I said. “A man named Peter, right?”

  The other end of the line was silent for a few moments, as if Gunnar was considering his words very carefully. “Yes. What about it?” Gunnar asked.

  “One of my ninjas disappeared, and I found a suicide note from a man named Peter,” I said, ignoring the message’s warning not to tell anyone.

  “Suicide note?” Gunnar asked, sounding confused.

  I nodded. “By writing the note, Peter was committing suicide. He signed his own death warrant. It was a cry for help and I always help those in need.”

  The alpha werewolf of St. Louis growled his agreement. “Give me details. What happened—”

  “None of that matters, Gunnar,” I interrupted in a firm tone. “I am not in the mood for talking. I am in the mood for retribution. Tell Alucard to get his ass in gear because I’m coming to St. Louis. The Horsemen are going to play today.”

  “I thought you were busy with a war?” Gunnar asked in a growl that sounded more eager than taunting.

  “For this, I’ll make an exception,” I said in a cold tone. “My war here can wait a few hours. I’ve already killed a demon and mortally wounded an angel and two Nephilim this morning, so they’ll be distracted for a little while. Long enough for me to visit my second favorite city before I destroy it.”

  Gunnar coughed on the other end. “Wait. What—”

  “See you soon, Horseman of Justice.” I hung up.

  This motherfucking Peter guy had chosen the worst possible time to mess with me.

  Ryuu was off limits. Period.

  31

  I ripped open a Gateway to St. Louis and stepped onto the lawns of Chateau Falco, Nate Temple’s ancestral mansion, situated in a walled enclosure that was large enough to probably justify its own zip code. It had been in his family for so many years that the actual number was no longer relevant. It was revered by any who had the fortune to set foot on the grass. A rite of passage for those who valued all things pretentious and vintage, and given even greater respect for the fact that it was decidedly impregnable after so many centuries.

  It. Was. Still. Here.

  And would, apparently, always be here. It was not accurate to say that Chateau Falco was located in St. Louis.

  It was more accurate to say that Chateau Falco and the Temple clan had leased out a significant chunk of their unused land holdings to St. Louis as an act of charity.

  The mansion was three stories of gothic architecture mixed with an English lord’s summer palace, encompassing close to twenty-thousand square feet of extravagant interior that included a solarium, libraries, dining halls, banquet rooms, gym
s, studies, and secret inter-dimensional libratories——a combination of an alchemist’s laboratory and a wizard’s magical library. The grounds consisted of flowing hills, lush, meticulous greenery and flower gardens, a pond with a cute little bridge, a labyrinth, a forest, an impossibly tall, otherworldly glowing white tree, and—

  It was excessive, over the top—impossibly beautiful and indelibly decadent—and it would make any Christie’s magazine decide not to feature any new homes out of shame. Whatever dreamy European estate you could imagine…Chateau Falco was better.

  And that was the point. Kind of like the Temple clan itself. Generations heralding back to before America was even founded had lived here. Before that, the Temples had likely ruled Europe in a similar, or even more, ostentatious manner. I knew for a fact that the Temple family tree had featured many more branches back then, so they probably owned multiple estates just like this one.

  Now, Nate and Chateau Falco were the last of the Temples.

  Chateau Falco counted as a Temple because the mansion housed a Beast named Falco, very similar to how Castle Dracula was powered by Sanguina.

  I took a deep breath of the heady, floral air and sought out the prettiest flower garden I could find. Birds chirped in the trees, accompanied by the warbling chatter of squirrels, chipmunks, or some other endearing rodent that God had disguised with an extra dose of cute fluffiness back in his old, rambunctious Genesis days. You know, right after he’d figured out how to flick on the universe’s first light switch, and then produce and direct his very own reality TV show, titled Naked and Afraid, starring two oblivious humans named Adam and Eve after they’d been thrown into a jungle.

  I smiled down at the kaleidoscope of flowers, admiring their innocence as I gathered my thoughts.