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  “Are you ready to tell me exactly what tonight was about? What is this artifact? Because you aren’t going anywhere.”

  “Are you a doctor?”

  I smiled acidly, pointing a thumb over my shoulder. “No, but she is.” He knew Claire. They had met several times after that fateful night during dinners at my dad’s place.

  Claire squeaked at his sudden raptor’s glare, but managed an authoritative nod a moment later. He muttered angrily, not at her, but about the situation itself, and about not needing two mothers. Still, he mumbled loud enough for her to hear, and her face began to storm over. I felt a genuine smile splitting my cheeks as I waited. Claire was scared of pretty much everything, but challenge her intellect? You would die. By acid. Then fire. Your ashes tossed into a shallow, open grave.

  “Seventeen stitches, deep muscle lacerations, and shredded cartilage. Oh, and your thigh has a hairline fracture, and you lost two pints of blood.” She took a step closer. “You try to walk out of this room right now, and you die. Twenty minutes, tops. If you’re lucky.”

  I pretended to shoot a basketball, leaving my hands up in the air like the badass players do when they make a beautiful shot. Roland frowned at me, obviously not getting it, but Claire gave me a light laugh.

  When I looked back, Roland was scowling even further, but he leveled a calculating look at me, thinking, assessing, and the wolfish smile that slowly spread across his face made me take an involuntary step back.

  “Okay, get me some of that coffee. Or I walk. And I die.”

  Chapter 9

  Claire had gotten him coffee, given him a quick checkup, and then agreed that he should be fine sitting up, but she looked distant, thoughtful as she spoke, as if confused about something.

  Roland sipped his coffee in silence, finishing the whole thing as we fidgeted on the couch. Claire had even grabbed my hand for comfort, concerned by his statement of leaving.

  I let her. Not because I wanted it. No. Because she needed it. That was all…

  “I am a Shepherd. And you are my student. It was bound to happen sooner or later,” he murmured, as if speaking to himself, resigning himself to a decision he did not like.

  One bit.

  I waited, watching him. Shepherd. They fought monsters, saved children, exorcised Demons, and converted people to Christianity in their spare time. All without a cape. It wasn’t my thing, but he had taught me, taken me up when I had needed help, and against his typical lifestyle, had decided to stick around in Kansas City long after he normally would have left to find a new town, a new church, more lost souls. He was naturally a vagabond. A wanderer.

  Except… that had changed when he found me so many years ago. He had stayed in Kansas City since. Completely unheard of among the other Shepherds.

  “I’m not signing up. I already told you,” I reminded him, but I did feel like I owed him.

  He nodded absently, not seeming to listen or care, lost in his own thoughts. He idly lifted the sheet, realizing he was shirtless.

  Then he looked up at me. I met his eyes, not sure if I should look ashamed, or guilty, or satisfied at having taken care of him. Saving his life. “Are we going to talk about that, Edward Scissorhands?”

  He shook his head, and then caught me off guard with a change of topic. “You have a gift from God, Callie.”

  I grunted noncommittally. “If you say so…”

  His features tightened in disapproval, but he knew my reluctance well. “Refusing to accept the truth does not change the truth. We have gifts, and we choose how to use them, for good or evil.” I nodded. I could agree with that much, and had told him so numerous times. “Some make different choices than we have. The easy way out.” Again, I nodded. None of this was new.

  “So, what is this artifact?”

  “You saw the paper?”

  “Yes,” I said, sounding much calmer than I felt.

  “The artifact we sought, was one of three religious pieces that when united, and fitted together incorrectly, can open a portal to Hell itself. It is said it can also open the gates to Purgatory. The artifact can be pieced together in three different ways…”

  I blinked, reading between the not so subtle lines. “Wait, you mean that these things can open a portal to Hell, Purgatory, or… Heaven?”

  He nodded. “And grant the builder great powers.”

  I shook my head. “Then why were you so casual about it? Taking me out on my first job for something so important… Are you insane?”

  “Everything I pursue is important, Callie…” His eyes locked onto me, as if implying a much deeper meaning, but I didn’t care to go back to the church topic, or the job offer.

  “Well, like I told you, we wasted a lot of time. Running to go visit Father David, getting ice cream.” I frowned. “And how the hell did a werewolf get his hands on one of the pieces?”

  “We had thought them all locked away, in different corners of the world, warded from detection. But strange things have been happening lately. Something to do with St. Louis destabilizing places of power, but I can’t get a clear answer on what, exactly, that is. Regardless, many dangerous objects have found their way onto the Black Market lately, and whoever has money is buying them up as fast as possible.” He growled to himself after a breath or two of silence. “Until that piece of paper, I wasn’t even confident that the storage unit held one of these artifacts. But I could sense it there. It had been there for a brief time, and it was unstable. I do not know why. Or how. Just that it was.”

  “What is it? What does it look like?”

  I could see the struggle in his eyes, debating how much to share with me. “A spear…”

  I frowned, and then a very prickly feeling began to crawl up my neck. “You’re kidding me. There is no way you’re letting me handle something like that.” I began to panic. Me, not even religious, protecting the spear… “Say it. Out loud. What spear?” I asked in a whisper.

  Claire was frowning, glancing from one to the other.

  Roland nodded, removing all doubt. “The spear that pierced Jesus Christ on the cross. The Spear of Longinus.”

  Rather than committing that name to memory, I focused on preventing myself from screaming incoherently. This was beyond insane. But… if I didn’t help him, he would do it himself, and die from blood loss. I knew it.

  Unable to think straight, I stood and began to pace. “Claire says you’ll be fine in a week. Surely, it can wait that long. Something like this? Or you can call one of the other Shepherds,” I said, not sure if any of them were even close to Kansas City.

  He was shaking his head, and winced as he subconsciously tried to move his leg. “No time. That paper sealed the deal. It was the confirmation for a seat at the auction I was going to attend tomorro—” he cut off abruptly, face pale. “How long was I unconscious?” he asked, suddenly anxious. Claire stood, leaving the room on soft feet, as if not wanting to be part of the conversation. Or the argument.

  “Calm down. It’s early, early morning. We were attacked last night, technically.”

  He let out a relieved breath. “The auction is tonight. You must be there to buy the second piece of the spear. At any cost. I can’t imagine anyone will be there who can outbid us, but you must be alert. Monsters will be there, like none you have ever seen before.”

  I was already shaking my head. “No way. I won’t fit in, and I don’t have money like that.”

  He shot me a cool smile. “I’ll take care of the money. I’ll give you my account number. If you do not go, then I will go. The church already has a reservation much like the one found in the storage unit. No name.” It was an icy promise. Just like I had thought he would. I tried to compose myself. All I had to do was get the piece and get it to him. Pretend it was something else. I could do that for one night. Buy it with the church’s money, and get out. An errand girl.

  But I found myself angry, clenching my fists, hating being forced into anything. “I don’t want to do what you do, Roland. I’m only he
re to learn magic!” I shouted.

  “Sometimes the Lord calls on us to be more.”

  “Your sales tactics are rusty. I’ve told you a billion times that I don’t want to be like you.”

  His eyes tightened, and I realized how it had sounded. I hadn’t meant it personally. I had meant his job, but I could tell it was too late to take back, and I didn’t want to take it back if it got my point across. No one had ever called me a master orator.

  “Be that as it may, you are all we have. Or… I will go. Even if I die doing it. We cannot let that piece fall into the wrong hands.”

  Claire placed a hand on my shoulder. I turned to see her holding up a nice dress and I almost snapped at her. She had gone to my closet at first mention of the auction, finding me something suitable to wear, knowing that would have been my next argument. Roland smiled delightedly, acknowledging Claire with a newfound appreciation.

  “Fine. Only to save the world,” I said sarcastically, “but this is temporary. Because you are a crippled, conniving, good-for-nothing, old man.”

  He didn’t look happy, more relieved than anything, but he did smile lightly at my words. Christ, he really had been willing to die getting the piece of the spear if I declined.

  He opened his mouth to speak, but I held up a hand. “If you can talk, you can eat. And you probably need to relieve yourself. There’s a bedpan next to you, Gramps.” His face turned back to stone and I smiled sickly sweet at him.

  “You’re the one with white hair. If anyone looks old, it’s you.”

  I smiled darkly. “With a cherub face like this? Fat chance.”

  I was only doing this so he wouldn’t kill himself, and I didn’t like the idea of a Door to Hell opening in my city. All I had to do was get one of these pieces, foiling any plans to open doors to celestial realms, and let him lock it away where no one could find it. I wasn’t a Shepherd. Never would be. After tonight, that was abundantly clear. I didn’t have the mettle for it. I didn’t want to be like him. I just wanted to learn magic, and how to defend myself. That was it.

  “Soup is beside you in the Tupperware. And a plastic spoon. And a napkin. Then you will sleep. If you try to stand, I’ll break your other leg. I’ll be back later to check on you. Sweet dreams.”

  And I stormed out of the room, snatching Claire’s sleeve on the way.

  “We need to find you a dress. You’re going with me.”

  Her arm jerked in terror, but I didn’t let up, dragging her into my room, magic tingling around my free hand as I felt myself losing control. I was scared shitless. And I needed a second set of eyes. Even if it was only a set of eyes as scared as mine.

  Chapter 10

  I sat at our favorite bar, wrapping my light trench coat around me like a robe. Underneath, I was dressed way nicer than any of the other customers. I was waiting for Claire, and had wanted a drink to calm my nerves. Not being able to bear any more time around Roland, with his endless list of reminders and advice, I had fled to our favorite drinking hole. Never dressed like this, I thought to myself with an amused grin as I sipped my dirty martini.

  We had slept in shifts, making sure one of us was always awake in case Roland needed something, which he hated. I had made sure to be extra motherly on my shifts, informing him that it wasn’t good to grind his dentures like that, which had made his face turn a purple I had never seen before on a human. It was small recompense.

  Claire had run to the zoo to pick up a few things just in case, but seemed surprised that he wasn’t infected, and didn’t look to be leaning towards future infection. Which sounded hunky-dory to me, until she repeated that it didn’t change his condition, and that although his fracture was minor, he would need to stay off it for quite some time, and really should go to a doctor for an x-ray, just in case. He had grown tight-lipped at that, but didn’t outright deny her.

  Beneath her clinical demeanor, I could sense Claire was terrified, just like she had told me. So was I, but I tried to think about it from her perspective. She was a Regular. No magic whatsoever. And despite that handicap, she seemed to excel, almost radiating confidence, infecting me with brighter cheer than I wanted to have.

  If Claire, a Regular, could walk into a den of monsters looking unafraid, then I could, as well. I tried to apply that rationale to my nightmares, wondering how to make it help me. Claire seemed to be acknowledging the facts, and although unhappy about them, she still embraced them. She had told me there was no point in focusing on why she was afraid. That fear wasn’t going anywhere, so she accepted that what we were doing was terrifying, and that was that. All that was left was to get the piece of the spear and get the job done.

  She was a gem. Truly.

  I had come to the bar to clear my head — not only to get away from Roland — and try to embrace my own fears, wondering if Claire was wiser than I had ever thought. My nightmare still nagged at me, lurking in the shadows, but it was slightly muted after allowing myself to focus on it several times throughout the day, riding the memory, so to speak.

  I was still scared, and nowhere near her level of mastery, but I did feel better. More in control.

  I sipped my drink, waiting for Claire to arrive. I wasn’t intending to get drunk, although the idea did slightly appeal. Anything to overcome my trepidation. But one drink couldn’t hurt. Maybe two, if Claire didn’t hurry up. I wasn’t much of a drinker. I liked drinking for taste, not results. Except when I was about to enter a den of monsters. Then, I would drink for results. Just enough to calm my nerves.

  “Why so serious?” a voice murmured from my right. I turned, masking my features. And blinked.

  A nerdy, but handsome man, close in age to me, was smiling back. He wore chic Ray-Ban glasses, and didn’t fit into the crowd of locals. He drank a whisky, judging by the color of the amber liquid and the short glass. He was in decent shape, and his messy, coal-colored hair caught the light, making it shine. His eyes were a deep brown, and he was clean-shaven. He wore well-fitting jeans, a pair of Adidas sneakers, and a Game of Thrones t-shirt.

  The bar wasn’t exactly a dive or anything, but it was typically full of frat boys bathed in Axe body spray or old working men. An occasional suit would walk in, due to the proximity of the financial district, but would rapidly find an excuse to leave, searching out a trendier pond to graze at. This man wasn’t the typical patron. Not unusual compared to anywhere else, but not usual for this place.

  Then again, I was wearing a sleek dress and heels, and I had noticed a dozen dirty looks upon sitting down, even though several of those faces soon recognized me as one of their own, suddenly baffled at my clothing. “Quoting Heath Ledger’s Joker is not the best pickup line. Not at all.” I said, since it was obvious no one else was going to talk to either of us.

  The other reason Claire and I came here was because of the owner, Martha. A sharp-tongued old woman who cursed like a sailor and loved Claire and me as if we were her own daughters. She rolled her eyes behind the bar in my peripheral vision, but I didn’t draw attention to her.

  He blushed, nodding after a moment. “Point taken. You just looked very serious. All dressed up, and no one here to take you anywhere,” he smiled warmly. Not creepily. Not even seeming to hit on me. Just observing. He also sat two chairs away, when anyone hitting on me would have already swooped in for the kill, taking my look as a sign I was about to toss my panties to the ground. Martha watched in the mirror, pretending to dust bottles, humming to the music in the background. She averted her eyes when I looked at her.

  “I’m waiting for someone.”

  “Bad habit, that,” he said, turning back to face the bar, glancing up at the TV in the corner, taking a slow sip of his drink.

  “What’s a bad habit?” I smiled in spite of myself. Just friendly conversation.

  “Waiting. Really bad habit. Trust me.”

  “Oh?”

  He turned to me, face overly serious. “Yes. Since you are so interested in me, I guess I’ll go to lunch with you tomorrow.”
He plucked out a pocket-sized Moleskine journal — of all things — and thumbed through it for a few seconds before setting it down beside his drink. He really was a nerd! “Yes. I’m free tomorrow. Let’s say noon at Jim’s. A steakhouse on the Plaza.”

  I couldn’t help it. I let out a laugh. “Very clever. Why not just ask me to do something tonight?”

  “Because you’re obviously busy, and I’d rather not be jumped by your date. I might look strong,” he leaned closer, as if to whisper conspiratorially. “But I’m not. And fishing for late night hook-ups isn’t really my style.”

  “Style, eh?” I said, glancing at his outfit.

  He nodded, still with the mock serious face. “Game of Thrones is awesome,” he said defensively. “Anyone can take a girl home. Not everyone can show a girl a fun time during the day. Plus, this isn’t my local spot. I’m only here because my sister picked it at random.” He pointed over a shoulder where a trio of pretty girls were talking to a few boys in a booth, playing a drinking game of some kind. They looked younger than the man beside me. He rolled his eyes as I looked back at him, knowing what I had seen over his shoulder. “Plus, asking a girl out for the night is a good way for me to get taken advantage of. I know the tricks your kind plays,” he smiled. I just stared at him, intrigued. His eyes flicked over my shoulder. “I think she’s waiting for you, but doesn’t want to ruin our chance at budding romance. I’ll see you tomorrow…” he drew out the silent question.

  “Callie,” I answered, turning to see Claire standing in the doorway, grinning at me, nodding excitedly at the man beside me.