Conspiracy of Angels (26 page)

I wondered if anyone else appreciated the irony.

Remy pulled out a ring of keys. Despite the
Mission: Impossible
complexity of the security on the back exit, the front door was relatively prosaic. He fussed with a deadbolt, then held the door open for us.

“Let me do the talking,” he urged.

Lil muttered snidely, “Whatever you say, dear.”

The minute we were through the doors, I was reminded why places like Club Heaven were almost never seen with all of their lights on. In the harsh overhead halogens, everything looked dirty and worn. The paint job on the partition was half-assed at best, with huge swaths that were so sparse it was possible to see the original industrial green that lay beneath. The curtains draped across the far wall turned out not to be velvet, but faded, cheap velour. They were covered with cigarette burns and other, less-identifiable stains. Most of the acoustic tiles on the ceiling were warped and sagging, and several were missing entirely.

I glanced at the floor, and quickly looked away.

Instead of throbbing electronica, the sound of hammers and power-tools spilled from the interior of the club. For a few moments there was just the productive rhythm of construction, then Saliriel’s voice cut shrilly above the noise, shouting orders and reprimands with equal fervor.

“At least we know somebody’s home,” I muttered.

Remy pulled ahead, stepping around the corner of the front partition. I followed along, noticing that he stopped where the cash register stood, a bittersweet expression playing across his features. Hell, even I was thinking about poor Alice, and I’d only known the girl briefly.

It made me wonder how many others had died the other night, as the cacodaimons searched for me. I wasn’t sure I really wanted to hear the final head count. It was a testament to Saliriel’s pull with the Cleveland police that the club was even free to start making repairs. Most places would still be closed off after an incident like that, tied up in lawsuits and red tape.

I steeled myself before I walked any further, envisioning that fist clenched tightly in my mind. I could already feel impressions plucking at me—a sense of panic, the ghostly echoes of gunfire and screams. Now wasn’t the time to go all
Dead Zone
on the place. I shoved those senses to a back corner of my mind. The impressions retreated, though I still caught flickers on the periphery.

The curtain I’d pulled down on top of myself was gone, so once we passed the cash register, we had a clear view of the interior of the club. All the blood and debris had been cleared away, and an antiseptic scent hung heavily upon the air.

My sibling, the gender-bending beauty queen, stood near the center of the dance floor, overseeing the replacement of the disco ball. Her outfit was far more conservative than the previous night, and might have even passed for business casual in the outside world—low-cut V-neck, bolero jacket, a little pencil skirt and three-inch pumps—all in shades of light beige and a pink so pale it might as well have been white.

Her tinseled blonde hair was swept back from her face and pulled into a loose ponytail. This starkly accented her aristocratic features, especially the sharp sweep of her high cheekbones. It occurred to me that she looked a little like Glenn Close, though I wasn’t sure the actress would appreciate the comparison.

A couple of workers stood nearby, one on a ladder operating the pulley system that lifted the huge mirrored ball into place. Another was replacing a panel of wood on one of the bars. Two bullet holes scarred the damaged section propped beside him. A trio of other guys was off in the back, repairing a railing. Among the workers, I recognized at least one of the bouncers from the night before. Out of uniform, he wore jeans and an old T-shirt with a faded Nine Inch Nails logo. It actually made him look beefier than the black-on-black monkey suit. I wondered briefly if he was on steroids, or if his excessive musculature had a creepier explanation. Terael’s conversation about Nephilim feeding blood to their “anchors” rattled uneasily around in my head.

As Remiel stepped into the club proper, Saliriel looked up and called out sharply.

“Where the hell have you been?”

He rocked back as if her voice held weight and force. Then again, to him, it probably did.

“Decimus,” he said, once he recovered a bit. “There are some things you need to be made aware of.”

She took a step forward, lips parted to respond—and then she caught sight of me. For an instant, she studied my features with an air that seemed unusually calculating, even for Sal. A heartbeat later, the look was lost to her customary hauteur.

“Ah, Remy, you’ve brought your favorite stray,” she mused. “How many times are you going to make me throw you out this week, Zaquiel?”

I was working on a witty comeback when Lil strode up behind me. The Lady of Beasts made a show of taking in the whole of the Saliriel’s appearance, a nasty smirk on her face.

“What is
she
doing here?” Saliriel demanded, voice cracking.

“Nice to see you, too, Sal,” Lil purred. “That’s an interesting look for you.”

Saliriel sputtered, too incensed for words. Lil’s smirk curled into a full-on Cheshire grin. No mirth glinted in the steel of her eyes.

The workers in the back paused to look in our direction. Their power drills fell silent and they murmured uneasily amongst themselves. After a moment, they resumed their labor with the mien of people struggling to seem invisible.

The bouncer in the band shirt had a very different reaction. He set his tools down carefully by the bar and stepped closer to Sal. The way he stared at us, a strip search would have been less invasive.

“Please, let me explain, Decimus,” Remy said quickly.

“Oh, you had better,” Sal snapped.

Remy winced but forged ahead. “Zaquiel wasn’t lying. The theft at the museum happened. They released news of it earlier today, and Zaquiel retrieved some evidence suggestive of a very serious issue.”

“I’m listening,” Saliriel said.

Remy wetted his lips, glancing our way for support. Lil wouldn’t even look at him. She just kept staring at Sal, like she expected the decimus to turn into a bat, or perhaps a great white serpent. Puffing out a breath, Remiel continued.

“What do you recall of the one called Kessiel?” he said. “He was apparently seeking to steal from the museum tonight.”

“Kessiel?” Saliriel said absently, and she tapped a manicured nail against a collagen-plump lip. “Why should I recall someone else’s foot-soldier?”

I snorted. “Here,” I said. “Let me jog your memory.” I slid the rucksack off my shoulder and dragged Kessiel’s skull out by its long blond ponytail. I grimaced at his shriveled features, then chucked the head at Saliriel’s feet. The bouncer tensed as it clattered across the floor. It came to rest against the toe of Saliriel’s shoe.

Remiel’s eyes flew wide when he saw the grisly trophy.

Even Lil did a face palm.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” she muttered.

“What is this?” Saliriel demanded. She minced back from the head, recognition slowly gelling on her features. NIN guy kept his gaze fixed on my hands, veins cording in his neck. The bouncer working on the disco ball stopped what he was doing and backed slowly down the ladder. He wore an unbuttoned bowling shirt over his dark tee, and I was fairly certain the shirt concealed a gun.

“Want me to make him gone, Sal?” he asked, a belligerent set to his shoulders. His deep voice held very little inflection—but there was a distinctive twang to his a’s. Lil and I exchanged startled glances. We had both heard that voice before. This was the man who had spoken on my answering machine—about the mysterious rendezvous at Lake View.

I clenched my left hand. It was that or start swinging at people. Lil had been right all along. Sal was neck-deep in this shit.

“Which angel was it, Sal?” I demanded, choking past the rising fury. “You know, in Lake View Cemetery.” I couldn’t keep the threat out of my tone. Both bouncers moved with purposeful steps to shield their mistress, creating a wall of human muscle between us and Saliriel. Bowling shirt guy didn’t have his gun out yet, but his right hand hovered near the small of his back.

The workers in the back picked up their tools and found something else to do, as far on the other side of the club as they could manage. I almost felt sorry for them.

With languorous grace, Saliriel bent at the knees and retrieved the skull. She rose just as slowly, smoothing her skirt with one hand while the other gently cupped the desiccated head. Kessiel’s shriveled lips skinned back from his teeth, gratuitously displaying the fangs.

“You killed him,” she observed coldly. “There will be repercussions for this, Zaquiel.”

“You should answer the question, Sal,” Lil demanded. She had gone very, very still, her little purse tucked casually under one arm.

“Don’t speak,” Saliriel spat. “I don’t take orders from you.”

“Lake View? What are you two talking about?” Remy whispered. He looked anxious and perplexed, and with all his hair pulled back in the braid, he didn’t have an easy way to hide it.

“Sal knows,” I answered, speaking more to the decimus than to my brother. “I’ve got a feeling Sal knows lots of things about this mess.”

Again I caught a flash of that intensely calculated look from Sal. Yellow fire glimmered in the depths of her eyes, and I wondered what the decimus was trying to see.

“You have proof of this incident at the museum?” she inquired. She toyed with Kessiel’s head, turning it to face me. “More than a corpse, I hope.”

I nodded.

Pressing her sculpted lips together, she said, “Show it to me.” With a poisonous look toward Lil, she added, “In private.”

Then she tossed the skull with its bright plume of hair casually to one of her bodyguards—the one without the concealed firearm, I noted. He caught it without hesitation, tucking it in the crook of one elbow with the air of a man who was accustomed to handling random bits of corpses.

“See to it that this disappears,” she ordered.

I wondered idly if minions got time and a half for disposing of bodies. Sal turned abruptly on her heel and started walking toward the back of the club.

Lil made a hissing sound of displeasure.

“Don’t do it Zack. That’s how she gets you. Divide and conquer.” To Sal, she yelled defiantly, “Anything you need to say, you can say in front of all of us.”

Witheringly, Sal called back, “You present your case to me in private or not at all, Anakim. Remy, please calm the Lady of Beasts. I don’t want to have to clean up after another fight. We just got the blood out of the tiles.”

Lil snarled her displeasure, a threat clear in every line of her face. The bouncers both reacted, rising onto the balls of their feet. They faced off with the petite redhead, and I didn’t think they’d be bested with a smile and a flash of cleavage.

“Still as uncivilized as the beasts you command? Please,” Sal sighed. “Boys, restrain her if she becomes a problem, and put on a little music to entertain our guests. Perhaps some VNV Nation. If I recall, Zaquiel’s fond of
Beloved
.” She delivered the order with an exaggerated flick of the hand.

“Get back here, bitch,” Lil growled. “You might get away with pushing Remy around, but you have no authority over one of the Anakim. Zack—you don’t have to go with her.” She twined the fingers of her left hand in an oddly geometric position.

The tang of generic disinfectant suddenly gave way to a wholly different scent—hot sun, warm earth, and dry, dusty grass. The lioness ghosted to life beside her. The beast wriggled her haunches, ready to pounce at the slightest provocation.

“Back off,” warned the heavy in the NIN tee. He didn’t seem to see the lioness, but he clearly knew that something was up.

“Give me a reason,” Lil snarled.

“Lilianna, please,” Remy whispered desperately. Turning to me, he said, “Zaquiel, you’ve been in here twice this week seeking help from Saliriel. Isn’t this what you wanted?”

“Zack, seriously,” Lil hissed between her teeth. “This is a bad idea.”

The lioness chuffed once and started pacing. Her gleaming gold eyes tracked Saliriel as she continued toward the far end of the club.

“Sal doesn’t boss me around,” I agreed, “But neither do you, Lil. This is my call.” I eased the backpack onto the floor, not wanting to rile the bouncers any further. Then I turned to my brother.

“If this goes south for any reason, you do everything in your power to help Lil find her sister, you hear me?” I demanded. “I might not remember, but Lailah was special to me, too.”

His gaze flicked between me and the naked knobs of Kessiel’s thigh bones. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Lil. Wordlessly, he nodded.

With a deep breath—and wondering whether I’d taken leave of my senses—I stepped through the living gate of Sal’s two muscle-bound attendants. Then I followed the towering figure of the Nephilim decimus as she strode toward the soundproofed back rooms.

“
W
e had a deal, Anakim,” Saliriel snapped.

We faced off tensely in the silver-spattered room. I hovered near the back, avoiding the psychic stain where Alice’s death was blazoned across the threshold. Sal had her arms folded under her breasts in that disturbingly provocative gesture while she leaned a hip against the arm of one of the leather couches. I’d expected a lot of things to happen once the door swung shut, but this wasn’t one of them.

“It might help if I remembered any of it,” I countered.

“Yes, well,” she sniffed. “I have to accept that you’re not faking.”

“Why the fuck would I fake this shit?” I demanded.

“The power that the Eye holds is very alluring, especially for someone with your checkered past. I couldn’t rule out a double-cross,” she said, her yellow cat-eyes fixed on my own. Pointedly, she added, “I still don’t.”

Words failed me. My mind raced through the events of the past forty-eight hours—the cacodaimons, the cipher, the insanity at the museum. Lailah.

“You need to tell me what the hell is going on, right the fuck now,” I hissed.