God Hammer: A novel of the Demon Accords (22 page)

“Well, I can see his point.  I’d be resentful too.  But at the heart of the matter is the fact that we can’t replicate the programming without him.  Theoretically, other witches could possibly do the job, but it would likely take a full circle or two, and none of our sources know of any circles that have his abilities with electronics. So his magical programming is his and his alone,” Tanya said.  She was sitting on her desk and the black dress she was wearing was distracting me from the conversation.

“Hmm, makes sense.  Wait… what sources?” I asked, dragging my eyes back up to hers.

“Well, we do know other witches.  The Coven has always had contact with witches and employed their services, despite the exorbitant cost.  Protecting our existence for all those centuries required magic, more this century than ever before.  At least that’s one expense that disappeared with Washington.”

“But if they used magic to get rid of or change evidence before we blew the cover on the Darkkin race, then some of them had to be able to whammy electronics?” I asked.

“Yes, of course.  There are other Earth witches and Fire witches, even some with both.  Most of them can disrupt cameras and recording media.  They can corrupt audio files and photographs, both digital and chemical-based.  Even give computers fits.  But listen to, understand at an instinctive level, and program?  Not that we can find,” she said, straightening her dress across her legs.  My eyes followed her gesture.

When I looked up, she gave me a little smirk.  “Honestly, how do men get anything done?  You are so easily distracted.”

“We’re motivated to clear our workload so we can pursue those
distractions.”
She snorted at my leer, rising to her feet like a dancer, all grace and fluid movement.

“Speaking of which, what is our next appointment?” I asked as she sat down behind her desk, hiding much of her lithe form.

“Daniel Castille—Reverend Daniel Castille, of the Church of the True,” she said, watching my reaction.

“What the hell do they want?  They hate vampires,” I said.

“He requested a meeting to discuss the Church’s position on Darkkin.  It was suggested that they want to come to an understanding,” she said.  “I figured, what the hell?”

“So is it just you and me?” I asked.

“Darion is coming in as well, and Nika.  In fact, they’re meeting them downstairs and bringing them up.  They should be here any moment.”

“I’m guessing that your tablet has a fact file on the Church cued up right now?  What do we know?”

“The Church of the True was formed from a prior ministry that Castille founded about seven years ago.  The Select of the Lord was co-created by Castille and a lawyer named Fierro… Lyle Fierro.  They attracted a small following and tried numerous tactics to grow their congregation.  Never got much over a thousand members.”

“A thousand seems like a lot?” I asked.

“For a small town church, sure.  For a ministry seeking to grow across state lines, not so much.  Right after our trip to Washington, they changed the name to the Church of the True and started preaching against vampires.  They grew astronomically in the months since.  Over thirty thousand followers at last count.”

“Still just a tiny fraction of the country’s population,
zayka,
” I said.  “Your interviews and actions have more people viewing vampires favorably.”

“But they are still growing and some of the people they’ve attracted have influence, wealth, and political power,” she said.  Her cell phone chimed with her incoming text tone.  “They’re here and on the way up.”

“What does the Church say about vampires?” I asked.

“That we are soulless abominations in the eyes of God,” she said.  Her poker face was on but I didn’t need my Chosen bond to know how deeply that statement affected her.  From the moment I met her, I had been trying to convince her that she had a soul and it wasn’t forfeit simply because she was a vampire.  And now, years later, we had established that her soul was that of the Angel Lailah, and yet some yokel with a bible was still able to make her question herself.  My anger was almost instant.

A knock came at the door. I
moved
to it and opened it, revealing Darion, followed closely by three men, a young woman in a dress, and Nika.  Darion moved smoothly by me, but the man behind him stopped instantly to stare at me with a slightly fevered smile.

“Christian Gordon—Hammer of God.  I am so honored to meet you,” he said, holding out a tanned and manicured hand.  His face was just as carefully bronzed and his teeth were so white, I knew they were caps.  Lean in the manner of a dedicated gym junkie, his blue eyes shone with the intensity of something that was either complete confidence or fanaticism.  He appeared to be in his mid-forties.  He clutched a very worn bible under his left arm.

I automatically took his hand, but I was still angry that anyone or anything could make my soulmate doubt herself.  I may have gripped a tad too tight.  He almost went to his knees.  I felt Tanya’s alarm at the same moment I registered the look of pain on his face and instantly relaxed my hand.

“Oh, sorry.  Slipped for a second,” I said, using my other hand to pull him back fully upright.

“Wow, you
are
strong!  The might of the Fallen,” he said, wincing slightly as he shook out his hand.  “I’m Reverend Daniel Castille,” he said, eyes still locked tight to mine.

“Well, you know who I am.  This is my better half, Tatiana Demidova,” I said.

He stepped into the room and then back to the side of the door as she crossed the room.  The person behind him was a heavy man whose skin shone slightly with a sheen of perspiration despite the air conditioning.  Both men stopped and watched Tanya’s approach, the expressions on their faces identical to most men when they meet my vampire in person.  She has a certain impact on men.  Most men. 

The third guy was lean and dark, although whether it was from inherited traits or time in the sun, I couldn’t tell.  He was wiry and controlled, with brown hair and brown eyes, one of which he had come close to losing sometime in the past, based on the thin white scar that ran down his cheek.  He paid no attention to Tanya’s beauty, instead watching her with a wary look.  The woman was young, showing a lot of leg and makeup and carrying a tablet.  She, too, came up short but her expression flickered briefly with dismay, a common reaction among women.

Tanya said hello, flashing white teeth but no fang, and I took a second to glance at Nika.  Her fingers signed quickly through a series of very fast movements.  Team sign language.  At vampire speed, she pointed to Castille, the fat man, the woman, and the lean guy.  She couldn’t read Castille or the lean guy.  She could read the girl and the heavy dude.

“Ah, my associate and attorney, Lyle Fierro, my assistant, Sue Olley, and our head of security, John Cuttle,” Castille introduced once he had regained his composure.

“You’ve already met Darion and Nika, so why don’t we all have a seat,” Tanya said, waving a hand toward the chairs, coffee table, and single loveseat.  “Can we get you anything to drink?”

Castille almost jerked at her question, his face flashing through microexpressions of fear and disgust .  “No, no, we’re all quite fine,” he answered for all of them.

Tanya and I took the loveseat, the others settling into armchairs.  Castille sat on the edge of his, and Cuttle looked poised to move.

“So, Reverend, what can we do for you?” Tanya asked.

He frowned, then gave her a sad smile.  “Just so that we don’t create any misconceptions, the leadership of the Church of the True have not changed our position on your kind,” he said, the word
kind
somehow conveying the connotation of something nasty.

“So why are we meeting?” I asked.

“Because the Church demands that you cease destroying the lives of God’s children with your medical experiments,” Lyle Fierro said.

Tanya and I looked at each other, confused. “Destroying lives?  Those people who’ve entered the medical trials have all responded well.  In fact, the cure rate is astronomical.”

“So it would seem.  But we aren’t speaking of the unfortunate citizens of the countries that are hosting your… projects.  We are concerned for those US citizens that have been misguided into traveling to foreign lands to receive corruption of their souls,” Castille said, eyes alight with conviction.

“Wait, those Angel Flight kids that have been cured of brain cancer, leukemia, and a half dozen other deseases?  Those are the people we have supposedly corrupted?  By curing?  What kind of god does your church pray to,
Reverend?
”

“The one you have turned your back on by falling in with these… these false beings,” Castille shot back at me.

Darion held up his hands in a time out gesture.

“Reverend, you admit these children have been cured, yet you claim corruption.  What do you base that accusation on?”

“The children appear to be cured, counselor—
appear
being the key word.  Yet most of them have since fallen ill and several have died, with the prognosis for the others being very poor,” Castille said.

“What?  Died? What children?” Tanya demanded, coming forward on her seat next to me.  John Cuttle tensed at her movement, his eyes watching her like he might a poisonous snake.

Sue Olley leaned over and handed the reverend her tablet, which he promptly turned around.  It was opened to news website and the title was
Miracle Kid Dies Suddenly. 
The date was today’s and the child was one of the first to be cured, a beautiful five-year-old girl from Dallas, Texas who had inoperable brain cancer.

“There have been others,” Castille said, swiping the screen with his finger and flicking to another story of a cured boy suddenly on death’s door.  The glimpses of both articles had implied a connection to the Demidova drug trials.

Darion reached for the tablet and Castille let him take it.

“So, while your abominable formulas might appear to work, they are corrupting the very bodies and souls of these precious young people,” the reverend said.

Darion looked up from the tablet.  “Two other kids are listed in here, but they were both in accidents. What does that have to do with the cure?”

“Don’t you see?  No, of course you don’t, since you’ve thrown your immortal soul away to be in their presence,” Castille said with a pitying smile.  “It was our Lord’s will that these children were sick in the first place, and when you contaminated their young, pure bodies with your evil mixtures, he called them back to him anyway.”

“There is no proof connecting these deaths to our treatments.  The articles even say they died of unrelated illnesses,” Darion said.

“Yet they died.  As will, I am certain, any other victims of your vile practices,” Castille said.  Suddenly, it was clear.  At least to me and, by the taut vibration of tension in my vampire and the thrum of rage in our bond link, it was clear to her as well.

“Are you threatening the patients?” Darion asked.

“Of course not!  Don’t be accusing my client of impropriety when it’s your actions that have led to this,” Fierro said, wresting his bulk forward to sit upright.

“The Church of the True demands you cease these abominations you call trials immediately or we will be forced to show the world what you have done,” Castille said.

Grim poked me from inside his cave in my mind.  I opened my Sight, noting their auras.  The fat man and the girl were the normal blue of standard human.  Castille’s was much, much darker—still blue, but a navy so deep, it was almost black.  Cuttle’s was dark as well, with a sheen of real black over it.  Both men’s auras were twisted on separate parts of their bodies.  Castille’s was twisted all around by his left arm, right by the bible he carried.  Cuttle’s was twisted on his chest, about where a necklace or amulet would be under his shirt.