Vendetta (Deadly Curiosities Book 2) (40 page)

Every downstairs room was comfortably full of upper-crust Charlestonians dressed to impress. “Anthony! Good to see you,” a man said as we entered, and Anthony grinned, shaking his hand and chatting. Anthony’s law practice serves a well-heeled clientele, so he worked his way around the room for a few moments, shaking hands and trading small talk.

“Cassidy and Teag! It’s been a while – nice of you to make it,” someone else said from the crowded foyer. Most people knew us from Trifles and Folly. My family had been in Charleston since the city’s founding, so I recognized a number of the older guests as people my parents knew before they moved to Charlotte.

Most of the city’s Who’s Who milled about in the foyer or out in the garden. I scored a flute of champagne from a passing waiter, along with a bacon-wrapped scallop from a tray of passed
hors d’oeuvres
, and Teag did the same. Finally, the crowd shifted and I spotted Mrs. Morrissey at about the same instant she saw us.

“Cassidy! Teag! I’m so glad you’re here.” Mrs. Morrissey waved to us where she was ensconced in a wing chair in the middle of the old house’s parlor, surrounded by some of the city’s blue-bloods and the Archive’s most enthusiastic donors. We made our way over, and I was glad to see that other than a barely-noticeable bruise on her forehead, Mrs. Morrissey looked fully recovered. She noticed the antique walking stick I wielded with a bit of over-the-top glam. “Love that cane,” she said. “Quite an antique – I can’t believe you’re actually using it!”

“What’s the use of having something if you never take it out of the case?” I said with a smile. She had no idea just how much ‘use’ Alard’s walking stick got, or how lethal an ‘accessory’ it actually was. While I didn’t intend to use the walking stick indoors, I figured I should have it with me for the walk there and back.

“You won’t believe the news!” Mrs. Morrissey bubbled. “We received a phone call yesterday from a man in Belgium of all places, who wanted to purchase ‘Nephilim Rising’ for his collection! And he didn’t hesitate when I named the price – isn’t that marvelous?”

I managed to keep a straight face, although I was certain that Sorren was her mysterious Belgian. “That’s fantastic,” I said. Although the painting was downright dangerous, the money raised would go to support the Historical Archive, which was a worthy cause. “Do you have to ship it to Belgium?”

Mrs. Morrissey shook her head. “No. But he was most insistent that he be able to have the painting picked up this morning. Said he had one of his people in Charleston who would be leaving soon, and he gave instructions to bring around a cashier’s check and have the painting sent with his agent. So we started this year’s fundraiser off with a bang!”

Bless Sorren, he managed to get the painting out of the Archive before it could cause havoc with the gala and more people got hurt.
I owed my patron a great big ‘thank-you’ for that.

By the time Mrs. Morrissey was ready to lead the guests up to the ballroom, Anthony had rejoined us, standing just behind Teag. Anthony’s suit was an updated Michael Kors take on classic Southern seersucker, complete with the pastel bow tie and suspenders combo that decorously announced ‘old money’. Teag wore a European-cut jacket and slacks without a tie and looked smashing. I noticed that he brought his leather messenger bag and bet it was full of weapons, just in case. I had thought about wearing a pretty dress, but decided that a pant suit and flats might be the better choice. The jacket hid my athame and Bo’s collar beneath my sleeves, and I’d managed to work in Alard’s walking stick as an accessory. Sad when you pick what to wear to a party based on how well you could fight monsters while wearing it.

The party moved upstairs, where more waiters with champagne and
hors d’oeuvres
awaited, plus a cellist who was seated in the back corner where ‘Nephilim Rising’ had been.

“Uh oh,” Teag murmured, nudging me. “Look who’s here.”

I barely had time to glance around before I heard an unwelcome voice behind me. “Why am I somehow not surprised to see you here?” Detective Monroe said.

I almost didn’t recognize her, since she wasn’t wearing the boring dark suits I’d seen her in before. She cleaned up better than I would have thought, when she wasn’t scowling. Her hair was simple but flattering, and a touch of tasteful make-up softened her features. She had also opted for a well-tailored pant suit and flats, and I bet she had made the choice for the same reasons I did. I was also pretty certain there was a gun holstered beneath her jacket and a badge in her purse.

“Detective,” I said. “I didn’t realize you had a fondness for the arts.”

Monroe gave me a look. “I have a fondness for making sure gatherings like this go smoothly, especially given the odd things that have been going on lately.” She nodded toward a man who stood with his back to us, talking to two men I recognized as members of the City Council. “Besides, my boss thought it would be a good idea to be seen here, so here I am.”

She eyed the walking stick and made a face. “Bit of an affectation, isn’t it? What’s next, one of those long cigarette holders?”

“I felt like adding a little cinema chic for the cause tonight,” I lied. Given that my pantsuit had satin tuxedo-jacket lapels, I could be forgiven for going Hepburn.

Monroe rolled her eyes. “Whatever. If it’s a trend, I don’t think it’s going to catch on.”

Just then, Anthony returned with fresh champagne for the three of us. His expression changed when he recognized Monroe. “What a surprise, Detective,” Anthony said in a cool voice as he handed us our drinks. Anthony casually laid a hand on Teag’s shoulder and moved to stand slightly between me and Monroe, a protective gesture the detective couldn’t miss.

“No reason for concern, Counselor,” she said, confirming that she recognized Anthony as well. “Just making small talk.” And with that, she headed off, though I noticed she wasn’t indulging in the champagne.

“Trouble?” Anthony asked
sotto voce
.

Teag shook his head. “Not yet, anyhow. Probably not a bad idea to have some plainclothes officers here, considering the crowd.”

I wasn’t convinced, but I said nothing. Instead, I looked around at the art and the magnificent sculpture of the Angel Oak that dominated the ballroom. Closing my eyes for a moment, I could sense the shift in the room’s energy without the Astor painting. The vibe was cleaner, untroubled. To my surprise, the energy also felt healing, as if it were reacting to how stressed, tired and generally beat up I felt and it sent me a rush of much-needed replenishment. I opened my eyes and blinked, feeling much better, and caught a glance from Teag that indicated he had experienced the same boost.

“Care for a petite quiche?” I turned as the waiter spoke and startled. The server who smiled above a silver tray of expensive noshes was cover model handsome.

“Sure,” I said, managing to brush his hand as I took the canapé. He moved away and Teag managed to snag a quiche before he was out of reach. I glanced around at the rest of the serving staff. They were all good-looking enough to make me very nervous.

“Sometimes a pretty face is just a struggling actor,” Teag murmured, guessing my thoughts.

He was right, but I was too worried about the possibility of Nephilim waiters to let it go. “I’m awfully peckish tonight,” I said with a smile. “I’m going to check out what’s being served.” With that, I moseyed and mingled through the crowd, making sure I checked out what each waiter had on his tray, brushing close enough to make contact with bare skin. To my relief, absolutely nothing supernatural happened.

Since I had dispelled the threat of an impending Nephilim attack and Detective Monroe was off paying attention to something other than Teag and me, I indulged in a few rare moments of relaxation. I savored the bellini I’d gotten from one of the waiters along with a nibble of asparagus and prosciutto, and let myself enjoy the cellist’s solo. Teag had gone off with Anthony, so I dawdled, making a slow circle of the ballroom to look at all of the angel-themed art. I placed bids for the silent auction on several local-artisan pieces that I liked, items for the store and a pottery piece with especially nice vibrations that I thought I would keep for myself. Since I’m a big fan of the Archive and Mrs. Morrissey is a huge help with research, I figured I could spare an extra donation on top of my annual pledge.

As I made my way around the room, the giant model of the Angel Oak in the center drew my attention. Once I had seen all of the pieces of art for auction, I found myself standing beneath the gnarled, spreading limbs of the tree, staring up at its canopy. Even at one-fifth scale, the artist’s massive installation brushed the ballroom’s high ceiling and sent out limbs that nearly reached all four walls.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Mrs. Morrissey said, coming up beside me. “It’s not really for sale, although I’ve had a couple of inquiries, if you can believe it!”

“What will happen to it once the fundraiser is over?” I asked. I hated to think that the beautiful piece might be dismantled permanently, although it would surely need to be taken apart to get it out of the ballroom.

“One of the big bank buildings downtown wants to put it in the atrium for several months,” she replied. “Then both the Lowcountry Museum and the University have expressed interest.” Mrs. Morrissey smiled. “I’m just impressed with how life-like it is, and how well the artist incorporated pieces of the real Angel Oak.”

I hadn’t been out to Johns Island to see the Angel Oak in a long time. If the replica here in the ballroom was any indicator, I decided that the real tree’s resonance must be exceptionally powerful. My magic registered calming vibrations, and a sense of serenity and patience that was often in short supply. “I wish I had room to take it home with me,” I said. “It makes me feel calmer just standing next to it.”

Mrs. Morrissey chuckled. “You’re not the first person to say that,” she replied. “I think that’s part of the reason so many locations want the installation. Everything today makes us all jittery and keyed-up. When you find something that calms you down, you want to hang onto it.”

Someone called her away just then, and just as I was about to move on, Teag and Anthony caught up with me. “Let’s get out of here before Anthony spends any more money,” Teag said, but his tone held affection and humor. “He’s already placed a couple of generous bids, and if we win, I don’t know where we’ll put the stuff!”

Anthony shook his head with a smile. “There’s always room for a good piece of art. We’ll just move things around.” He gave me a conspiratorial look. “Don’t forget – a high bid challenges the competition to bid more, which benefits the Archive.”

“Have you seen everything?” Teag asked. “Are you ready to move on?”

I nodded. Although the ballroom was spacious, the art display took up a lot of room. It felt crowded, and there were probably people downstairs who hadn’t had a chance to come up and mingle. “We’d probably better clear out so that more donors can look at the art,” I replied.

We said our goodbyes to Mrs. Morrissey and headed out. I glanced around, looking for Detective Monroe, but didn’t see her. That was fine with me.

Despite the air conditioning, the fundraiser seemed crowded and stuffy, so the cooler air outside was a relief, and I looked forward to the prospect of a nighttime stroll. Yet by the time we were half-way to Teag and Anthony’s house, I felt antsy, and I noticed that Teag was paying more attention to the shadows around us than to Anthony’s attempts at conversation.

I should have bid more on that piece of art. Pretty ungrateful, considering that it was my fault Mrs. Morrissey got hurt. I wasn’t fast enough or smart enough to protect her. The least I could have done was bid more. She helps us out a lot with research. Selfish, selfish, selfish –

I caught myself and turned toward Teag just as he reached for his messenger bag. “Watcher-guilt!” I warned. “That means trouble!”

“Maybe we can get home –” Teag started to say, but then something dark, fast and solid leaped out from the shadows behind us, taking Anthony down with it.

“Anthony!” Teag shouted. He ran for the Nephilim, which was still in human form, and got in a solid kick to the monster’s head that would have dropped a normal opponent. The Nephilim barely registered the blow. Teag pulled a three-sectioned bo staff out of his bag, and with a snap and a twist, the sections came together to make a six-foot fighting rod. In his other hand was his dagger. Josiah Winfield’s pistols were back at his house, too bulky to easily carry in public.

I didn’t dare fire either my athame or my walking stick for fear of hurting Anthony. Three more Nephilim were heading our way from the other direction. The waiters at the party might not have been fallen angels, but these pretty boys sure were.

I shook my left wrist, and Bo’s ghost appeared by my side, already growling. He’d had a taste of Nephilim lately, and he sounded ready to get some more. I had the walking stick already up and leveled, and let loose a torrent of fire that caught the Nephilim on my right full in the face while Bo snarled and leaped at the Nephilim in the center.

Teag was giving the Nephilim that had attacked Anthony a first-class beat-down, striking with his staff, dodging in and out to drive his dagger down again and again through the Nephilim’s back. He couldn’t use his
urumi
with Anthony pinned under the fallen angel, but the dagger and staff together should have been a lethal combination.

Anthony was fighting, trying to wrest free from the Nephilim’s grip. I heard what sounded like six muffled shots, and the Nephilim’s body jerked with each one.