Angel's Roar: Feathers and Fire Book 4 Page 7

  “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 would 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.

  “He did this in front of new members at the church, Callie. And you put him up to it. You paid him to ask it!”

  “COFFEE!” a banshee shrieked from outside, full of anguish and misery and frustration – like an entrance to the deepest pit in Hell had briefly opened up outside the church.

  “We should probably go,” I said, shooting disarming smiles at the frowning congregation members, the mothers suddenly clutching their children to their hips protectively. I quickly shuffled Father David and the older woman out the door. Claire was on the verge of a meltdown. Ever since becoming a shifter bear, sleep was kind of a high priority for her, and I’d kept her out late. Then – without warning – woke her to let her know we were going to church.

  “We’ll continue our conversation at the drug dispensary,” the woman said in a very crisp tone.

  “Coffee shop,” I corrected, frowning at her.

  “Like I said, drug dispensary,” she replied in the exact same tone.

  Thinking about that, I wondered if I should get Cain and Dorian as far from the coffee shop as possible while I had a chat with this apparently orphaned ray of sunshine Father David seemed so insistent upon me meeting. I had a feeling she didn’t suffer sin well.

  Chapter 16

  We sat in my java joint – the usual haunt for me to pick up my go-go-juice. It was close to both the church and my apartment, and I liked the crew of baristas here, as strange as they were.

  Claire had ordered a double-shot of espresso, an energy drink, and a quad-shot latte with more syrup flavors than I could fathom, but I was confident that there was less milk than anything else in the cup.

  Dorian was whispering to her, pointing at the energy drink and then the latte, as if encouraging her to mix the two together. She was giving his suggestion serious thought before I reached over and snatched up the energy drink.

  “Finish your appetizers first,” I scolded her, shooting Dorian a look as well. “When I’m confident you aren’t hearing colors, I’ll give it back.” She stared at me for a few seconds, face devoid of all humanity, before scooping up the espresso in one hand and the latte in the other, double-fisting.

  She downed the espresso, set the empty cup down, and began drinking her latte, eyes locked onto the energy drink in my hand.

  Father David and the old woman each had a tea in front of them, and she appeared to be listening to Cain with a faint, but appreciative, smile. I hadn’t noticed that she had sat down between Cain and Dorian, but I couldn’t think of a courteous way to extract her out of the Devil’s palms so to speak, so I abandoned her to fate. Maybe they would scare her away before she could pounce on me. I watched in astonishment as she reached out to pat Cain on the hand.

  “Such a sweet boy,” she said. “We need more men like you in St. Louis.”

  I blinked in disbelief – at both the exchange, and the mention of St. Louis.

  “Thank you, Greta, but St. Louis is a little too… high-brow for my tastes,” Cain said, smiling.

  Dorian leaned over. “That is a delightful cardigan, Greta.” He gently brushed his hand down the fabric. “It truly brings out your eyes. Is it custom fit or do you just make it look that way?”

  I hadn’t heard her introduce herself, but Dorian and Cain had. I’d been too busy making sure Claire didn’t give herself a heart attack. Greta actually blushed, absently straightening the sweater. “I often wonder where all the good men have gone,” she grinned. “It seems that two of them are right here in Kansas City. Bless you, boy, even though I should be old enough to shrug off your flattery.”

  “The Lord works in mysterious ways,” Dorian replied with a wicked grin. “But I am just a humble servant, sowing what good seeds I can.”

  Claire choked on her latte at his double entendre, and Cain began patting her on the back forcefully, asking if she was okay.

  I slowly shook my head. This couldn’t be happening.
This hateful old woman thought the two worst people at the table were good little choir boys? Talk about bad character judgment.

  “Well, while Dorian is off sowing his seed, my name is Callie and this is Claire. Greta, right? Pleased to meet you. David said—”

  “Father David,” the woman corrected me, pursing her lips. I felt Dorian and Cain casting disapproving looks my way.

  I gritted my teeth, ignoring the two bastards. “I didn’t feel the need to specify, because I didn’t notice any other David’s lurking about the table.”

  “Here, now, Callie. You should show him the respect of his title,” Dorian said gently.

  “And respect for your elders,” Cain added.

  Greta flashed them another genuine smile, but Father David’s shoulders were tense, his mouth hanging open as he stared from Dorian to Cain in disbelief. He knew who they were. He was aware of the supernatural community. He was just as shocked as I was. I wondered what the hell this introduction was really all about. And why my friends were antagonizing me.

  “Right.” I turned to Father David in mock solemnity. “Sorry, Daddy. I’ve been naughty.”

  Claire spit out her latte in a coughing fit, and David’s face went white as a sheet, in stark contrast to Greta’s rapidly purpling face. Dorian was leaning back in his chair, covering his face in mock horror, but I knew he was really concealing his devilish grin.

  I frowned at Father David. “Did I say that wrong? I meant, forgive me father, for I have sinned. I guess it really is all about the delivery,” I mused to myself as if at an inner thought. “Father David mentioned you wanted to speak with me,” I said, pretending not to notice her quivering outrage as I took a sip of my coffee.

  “Yes, well…” Father David said, quickly reaching out to pat Greta’s hand reassuringly, calming the old bird down. The sooner this was over, the sooner I could get to more important things. I wanted to go have another talk with Nameless to see if he had learned anything about the catacombs or the winged cowboy. I also had a few calls I wanted to make.