Got Thrills? A Boxed Set (A McCray Collection) (39 page)

And that was meant to reassure her?

Fanny jumped in. “But I’m okay. I’ve been like this since birth. Rook says I worked out all of my problems in the womb.”

Dear God! The girl really believed what she was saying. Angela had a verifiable mentally ill girl trying to explain the impossible events that had assailed her. Angela did not want to believe what Rook had said. She didn’t want to believe that her world, everything she knew, was just the DMZ between heaven and hell. She didn’t want to believe that the final clash between good and evil was happening when the sun rose. Nor did she want to believe that she was instrumental in deciding who won.

Angela turned to Tomahawk, who typed furiously. “And you? Are you a Seeker as well?”

“Just an old-fashioned Sniffer. I can’t see things like Fanny, but I can make some pretty good guesses based on patterns of behavior and statistical analysis.”

“Don’t believe him!” Fanny exclaimed. “Sniffing is an art, and he is a master!”

The man blushed and went back to his keyboard. Honestly, Angela expected Tomahawk to give her some New Age explanation—not to reveal he was their tech support. With his tanned skin and rippling muscles, Angela had never quite seen a computer geek like him.

Angela nodded toward Beauty. “And her? Him?”

Fanny slapped Angela’s arm and whispered harshly. “That is Beauty, and you’ll hurt her feelings if you talk like that.”

Angela hadn’t meant any disrespect. When someone wearing a leopard-print bustier and has such a large Adam’s apple, you had to ask.

Fanny added, much louder, “Beauty is the most gorgeous and extraordinary transgender Arranger there is!”

“That is, after I get a fill!” Beauty responded, waving her ratty nails. “But after that, absolutely, sugar.”

Angela hugged her knees as she glanced over at Rook, who was still in a heated debate about the shortest route to the Apocalypse. “And him?” she asked Fanny.

“Rook? Oh, he’s the very best Caster in the whole wide world!”

Rook looked over his shoulder. “Just this world?”

“Nope,” Fanny said, giggling. “Every dimension plus one!”

Rook grinned and caught Angela’s eye as he turned to face forward. The amusement fell away and the hard, unyielding Rook made an appearance before he turned his attention to the road.

“A Caster?” Angela asked.

“Yeah. He casts stuff. You know. Magic, spells, and potions. A Caster.”

“You mean, like a wizard?”

Fanny snorted. “Like the ones with the glasses? Please. I mean, any Caster who needs a stupid wand to do spells would be laughed out of the Cabal.” She scoffed again. “Wizard. Yeah, right.”

Angela watched as Fanny set up her tea party. “If Rook is so powerful, then why did Rook have to torture that angel, then?”

“Because he had to,” she stated matter-of-factly. “She was dangerous.”

Angela still did not understand. “But Sheli was an angel.”

“Silly girl,” Fanny said as she offered a pretend muffin on a doll plate. “That doesn’t mean she wouldn’t have killed us all, given the chance.” Fanny became suddenly serious. “You realize that the flesh she used to cloak herself had to be removed from the donor… while she was still alive.”

Angela set down the plate. Even an imaginary muffin made her nauseated as she imagined the suffering of that poor, nameless girl. How could an angel do such a thing? Even one who had sided with Lucifer.

“Around here,” Tomahawk commented, “you might not want to ask questions unless you are prepared for the answers.”

As she tried to quiet her stomach, Angela would definitely keep that in mind.

CHAPTER 8

Rook

Rook put his hand on the door latch as Beauty pulled the van to a stop outside a large, lonely barn. Moonlight illuminated the low, rolling fields surrounding the structure. All looked clear.

“I should only be in there a few minutes,” he said to Beauty as he opened the door. “Keep Roto-Rooter quiet and Angela secure.”

“Rook, we don’t have time—”

“Hey, I didn’t want to make this detour either,” Rook explained. “But if we’re going to do this, we’re going to need a vehicle that produces a little more oomph than a ’70s Chevy,” said Rook, overriding Beauty’s retort. “You know that without the Cabal’s help, this is the only way.”

“But Vlad? Really? He works the ‘dark market,’ ” Beauty questioned. “Do we really have to stoop so low?”

“Who else could get us the equipment in under and hour?”

Beauty finally nodded as Fanny rushed from the back of the van. “Then I should come with you. Vlad loves me.”

“No, sweetie,” Rook said before he kissed her on the forehead. “We already talked about this. It’s best if you two don’t see each other for a while.”

“But I miss him…” Fanny pouted.

Normally, her look of complete and utter dejection would work on Rook, but not around Vlad. The vampire might love Fanny, but that didn’t stop him from ripping her throat out and drinking her dry. She spent six weeks on life support after that. Fanny didn’t remember any of it, and Rook intended to keep it that way.

“I know, sweetie,” he cooed. “Maybe if we survive Armageddon, we can talk about it.”

Fanny brightened. “Great!”

Of course, Fanny did not seem to understand exactly how poor the odds were of that outcome, or Rook never would have made the offer. Making sure her hands were inside the vehicle, Rook shut the van door and headed across the dew-soaked field.

Opening the creaky wooden door, Rook entered the old barn. The smell of old hay and rotting wood caressed his nose. After the bathroom back at the safe house, these putrid smells were practically fragrances.

Moonlight streaked in through the broken slats above him, making the ground appear mottled and shifting. Which, standing over a minor nexus, wasn’t necessarily untrue. This place, in the middle of the dilapidated barn, was a communication node. He could barely whisper, yet it could be heard at another node in Taiwan. Whether Vlad took his “call” was another question entirely.

Rook began the incantation. “The tides turn slowly. The wind blows—” He shook his head. He didn’t have time for the proper formalities. “Vlad Marier, I summon thy undead butt to my presence.”

It wasn’t exactly by the book, but it should get the job done.

Sure enough, green smoke slid through the space between the slats and coalesced into a dark, brooding, and handsome young man. Of course, the chiseled features and piercing green eyes were deceptive. Vlad was a little over a hundred years old.

“You might have the power to summon me, Rook, but you don’t have the strength to command me.”

Great. Vlad was in his “strut” mode.

“I don’t have to,” Rook stated. “I’ve got cash.”

Vlad’s eyes narrowed, clearly suspicious. Usually, their interactions ended in a firestorm of magic and blood. Rook pulled out several bundles of bills. That got Vlad’s attention. A slow smile spread across the vampire’s lips, revealing his fangs.

“How much?” Vlad, asked practically drooling over the profit margin.

“Enough to commission your services.”

Rook tossed a bundle across the barn. Vlad snatched it midair. Next, Rook tossed a small journal. “Beauty’s got all the specs written down.”

Vlad’s eyes darted back and forth as he read the document. Finally, the vampire reached into his pocket and pulled out a long form, in triplicate. With a flourish, he handed Rook a pen.

“It’s a standard form. Sign on the dotted line, and we’re set.”

Rook frowned. “Since when did you need a contract?”

“Since I stared working with the likes of you,” Vlad replied.

Rook bent his finger, and the document flew across the barn. He had to squint to read all of the fine print. There were clauses to “hold harmless,” and “insurance riders.” He missed the good old days, when he just handed a dark marketeer the cash, and he handed you the goods.

“Wait!” “Why does it say ‘pay in advance’?” Rook asked.

Vlad shrugged. “I know the damage you can do, Rook.”

This was ridiculous. The world, the entire set of multi-dimensions, hung in the balance, and he was negotiating with a vampire? He did not have time for this. Sighing, Rook just signed the contract and threw all three bundles of cash at Vlad.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” Rook said, hoping each syllable dripped with the maximum dose of sarcasm possible.

“Sorry, I can’t say the same,” Vlad sneered as he tucked the cash in his pocket.

Rook went to turn away when the vampire’s demeanor changed. It was easy to forget how young Vlad had been when turned. Without the strut and attitude, he barely looked older than Rook’s Seeker.

“Is Fanny with you?”

“Spare me,” Rook answered. “Spare us both.”

“But I just wanted to know—”

“If you killed her? Scarred her for life? What?” Rook demanded.

Vlad could not meet Rook’s gaze.

“Just let her know that I am sorry,” Vlad said.

“Contrition from a vampire,” Rook stated. “How very touching.”

Vlad’s eyes flashed red before he dissolved into smoke, then was gone. Just as well. Rook left the barn and trotted through the field to the van. Climbing in, he handed Beauty the contract.

“Let’s get this disaster jump-started.”

Fanny popped up from behind his seat. “Did Vlad ask about me?”

Rook didn’t miss a beat. “Sorry, hon. No.”

Fanny sat back down, cross-legged and pouting, but it was for the best. “Star-crossed” didn’t even come close to describing Fanny’s and Vlad’s relationship.

* * *

Beauty let the van idle until Fanny went back to her tea party before whispering to Rook, “Are you sure you don’t want to find a nice safe spot for Hellgate and the Virgin?”

“I’m positive,” Rook answered, indicating that they should get going.

“But we’re delivering them directly to their doorstep.”

“I know,” Rook replied. “Brilliant, isn’t it?”

Beauty went to open her mouth as she pulled the van out of the mud and onto the two-lane highway, but Rook’s scowl stopped her. Well, Beauty could put on a world-class scowl herself.

“Okay, maybe not brilliant,” Rook conceded. “But it is practical. We don’t have the manpower to effectively hide them and duke it out with the powers that be.”

Rook was right. Sort of. That was Rook’s greatest strength and greatest weakness. Rook was extremely talented at rolling the dice, but even he threw snake eyes every once in a while. Beauty had to be sure this wasn’t one of those times.

“It’s still a huge risk,” Beauty commented. “I know that it isn’t ideal, but we could call Savage, and at least—”

“At least what?” Rook demanded. “Have him craft one of his patented compromises that leaves everyone but him screwed? I don’t think so. We’re past negotiating.”

Rook gazed down the dark road. “No. Tonight. Tonight we fight.”

Beauty had been afraid of that.

* * *

Tomahawk steadied his laptop as the van pulled to a halt. Out of the window, a large sign announced, “The Devil’s Punchbowl Recreational Area.” Boy, did they have the first half of that right. The second half? Not so much. He saved all of his programs and sent the results of his research to his phone as the rest of the group exited the van.

“We are going to have to hike it in from here,” he announced as Beauty groaned. She really needed to invest in some fashionable hiking boots.

Rook struck off down the trail, and everyone hurried to catch him. Chad was all the heavier as he and Angela slung him between them.

“Um,” Tomahawk said. “Are you going to tell us the plan?” When Rook didn’t answer, Tomahawk asked, “You do have a plan? Even a bad one?”

“Absolutely,” Rook answered.

They made their way down the steep grade without Rook filling them in.

“Are you going to share it?”

“Nope.”

Tomahawk steadied Fanny when she almost tumbled down the trail, headfirst. “Careful.”

“Okay!” she said, and then took off, skipping again.

Beauty luckily snagged Fanny’s sweater and got the girl to slow down as she asked Rook, “Why not?”

“Because you do not want to know ahead of time.”

“But—” Angela tried to ask. However, Rook cut her off.

“Look, the plan disturbs even me.”

Everyone else stumbled to a halt as Rook marched on. A plan that disturbed Rook? Crap. It really had to be bad.

Beauty’s voice was shaky as she tried to reassure everyone. “It can’t be much worse than Budapest.”

As he got Chad and Angela moving again, Tomahawk raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that?”

By Beauty’s frown, Tomahawk guessed not.

* * *

Rook reached the plateau as the earth beneath his feet rumbled. His hand lashed out and grabbed hold of the nearest branch. Pebbles jittered their way down from the hillside above. He caught Fanny as she skidded down the steep trail.

“That’s fun!” Fanny exclaimed, and then her mouth dropped open at the sight that lay before them.

Storms tumbled over themselves—as if they wanted to get the best seat in the house. Lightning danced above the narrow valley, but the bolts weren’t white. They were purple, red, and even black outlined in silver. Thunder boomed close enough to rattle boulders from their perches.

Tomahawk and the rest caught up.

Rook indicated the center of the valley. “That the nexus?”

“Yep,” he replied. Which truly was unnecessary, as the ground there oozed lava and the air above crackled with electricity.

“Fanny?”

She closed her eyes and her usually delighted features sagged from the pain. “Both sides converge.”

Again. No newsflash there.

“How many?” Rook asked.

“Legions.”

Rook held her hand. “Honey, is ‘legions’ a word you just like to say, or actual legions?”

Before Fanny could answer, the sky nearly split open. Blinding lightning struck, and thunder reverberated off the sides of the canyon. The lightning faded, leaving the night sky nearly translucent as the heavenly host was held back by the thinnest of barriers. Angels armored in gilded breastplates rode chariots pulled by winged horses straining to break through the barrier.