CHAPTER NINE
JOSH
There were three things my father told me to consider when entering a new environment: find the exits, find the demons, then find those in danger. He was a bit paranoid, I would admit, but also probably the most valiant man I'd ever known as well. And my father had no idea what monster lurked in the shadows. His demons had merely been humans that chose the darkest path. The human monsters that listened to their own 'demons', maybe manipulated by the supernatural. Those used to be enough. Enough that he followed those rules like a religion. Find the bad men and protect those in their sights. Of course, right now –being the only humans on this godforsaken street – we were on the only ones in anyone's sights.
It was no wonder the cab driver laughed when we asked to be dropped off in front of the bar. He pulled over at a cross street two blocks from our destination, cut two dollars off our faire and said, "That heat won't be enough, kid," referring to my gun that I'd thought I'd hidden well. "If you really want to go into hell that badly, I'll give you a couple of blocks to reminisce on the life you're leaving behind."
So either the cabby knew about the preternatural, which wouldn't be utterly surprising knowing what taxi driver's saw on a daily basis, or he was preternatural himself. Either way he believed the extra nuisance of walking two blocks would have us reconsider our pilgrimage. If only it were that easy. George thanked the driver with her usual glowing smile, shoving the two dollars back as tip.
Once he pulled away from the sidewalk she turned to me and offered her hand for me to hold. "Would this make you feel more comfortable?"
"I would feel more comfortable if you'd drag me up to Broadway to take in a corny musical like most girls." That was a lie and she knew it, by her amused smile she knew it. I loved her because she wasn't like most girls. Because she was special and effervescent and better than me. Georgina touched her hand to my cast, worry wrinkling her brow for just a moment. It was my dominant arm, but that wasn't going to stop me from taking down anything that came near to us.
"Don't you have his number or something?"
Her smile returned. "I deleted it after my boyfriend nearly shot him last time we visited my hometown."
I took in a long breath and let it out through my nose. I never asked her to do that and she never spoke of it, but knowing she would release that anchor without question was the reason I would be marrying her and Caliban wouldn't be invited to the wedding.
"I'm regretting it a little at the moment, I'm not going to lie." Georgina was gazing down the street toward the next one crossing.
Even the shadows seemed darker, like oil spilled and made a nestling home in the negative spaces. I was regretting her sweet gesture of deleting that number for my self-confidence as well, but I refused to admit it aloud. "Stay by my side. I need my hand free, but I want to feel you beside me at all times, okay?"
She nodded, pressed to her toes to kiss me. "Then you need to keep up."
Georgina took the lead. Her stride had a purpose and one that no human would question, but there weren't any around to question. We crossed over the first street, then the second, and then we were in hell; probably circles two through eight. George continued walking down the sidewalk like she had no reason to concern herself with the wolfish noses lifting in the air to catch scent of her or the parasites of the supernatural world tracking her like a heat-seeking missile. If only they were just vampires; the majority of vampires had adapted to a harmonious life with humans instead of bleeding them dry like legend. No these were preternatural from all walks of life and therefore all means of dangerous.
I grabbed George's waist, not minding the clunk of my cast to her hipbone. I pulled her closer to my side. "Please stay close."
"They can smell fear, you know," she teased me. Like it was the most natural thing in the world, she spun around on her sneakers in front of me; she'd worn jeans today and a dark shirt. An oddity, as her attire usually was just as vibrant and flowing as her personality. Maybe she was taking heed to may advice, wearing clothes that could protect and shoes she could run in. It didn't help much, even in a black tee shirt she glowed like a candle.
Her action, one that was supposed to stop me so she could calm me, had the adverse effect since she stopped us right near to a pack of loitering werewolves outside of a brownstone that was either a pound or a crack house. I took in a deep breath, glaring at the dogs as George slid her fingers over my open jacket. Any other time and that combined with her playful smirk would have had me dragging her off somewhere private. But there was nowhere private here.
"You need to calm down," George told me, pressed onto her toes again and knocked her forehead to mine lightly. "We just need to get to the bar, find out where Cal is, then we're off."
"This is his territory," I grumbled. Tonight that encompassed two males; the two that I was unable to protect her from, but they weren't the only males drooling for her warm amber-hued skin. This was preternatural territory, rife with things that wanted to eat hearts, blood, flesh –you name it. I started when a group of wood nymphs scampered by, laughing and chattering in their own language. Well, maybe every one of them wasn't about murder and mayhem. I frowned as the flock looked back at us, round faces as varying as the bark of trees, but each of their green eyes trained on us as the one thing out of place.
"This is Robin's territory," George corrected, obviously she was only considering Hob tonight. "From what you've told me, pucks don't like sharing with other pucks."
I decided not to take that as etched in stone. Hob didn't seem like one who played by the rules. Whether I decided to voice that concern or not didn't matter; George's mind was set and she was off down the sidewalk without a care for the dangers around us. I lengthened my stride to catch up and felt my back go ridged when the Wolves trailed after. My hand slipped under my jacket, fingers wrapping around the grip of my gun.
There were five of them. Two hung back: One too young to be a threat to my boot and the single, disfigured female among a brood of furry men. The rest of the three were barely adult, but ready for everything that I previously mentioned. Find the demons…well, they just found us.
I caught George by the back of her knitted hoodie and yanked her against my hip as I spun around, arm extended, gun aimed. "Try me," I hissed. Training in arenas with the Vigil wasn't simulators and virtual reality. They threw us in there with monsters, real breathing monsters. And all we were armed with were tranquillizer guns. Some of those monsters took more than one shot to take down. Some of those monsters got to comrades before those shots were fired, but never on my watch, never on my team. These Wolves would find out why if they took a step closer.
"Lost, little sheep." The closest one stepped off the sidewalk. His legs were twisted in a much more canine manner, heels lifted off the ground and thighs curved so drastically outward they looked broken. His shoulder twitched when it rolled forward, telling of an injury received some time ago. His nose also looked to have been broken once, either that or it was naturally crooked due to unnatural breeding from the All Wolf cult. "We see few here."
"We have no business with you," I snarled, baring my teeth since that seemed a better means of communication with them. "Let us get on with our business and you won't be picking lead out of your hide."
He lifted his humanoid chin, eyes to the sky as if contemplating. He may have been adult, but not by much. He and his friends were the equivalent of a human that just turned twenty-one; ready for a night of binging without thinking of consequences. "We are bored. You will entertain us."
"And feed us," another commented. This one had a mouthful of teeth only made for his elongated snout. I shifted the aim of the gun on that one. Playing games was one thing, but a hungry wolf needed to be watched closely. I had the inclination that he most likely wasn't the only one.
"I'm sorry to say, but you might have to settle for bar food," I countered, tightening my finger along the trigger. "Or cannibalism if you take another step."
I was only human. My nose was human, my eyes were human, and my reflexes were limited. There was only so much I could hone when given natural-born limitations. I'd learned a lot from my father and the Vigil; I'd become stronger and more aware, but I hadn't sensed him beside me. And that meant he'd snuck up on me passed George. I didn't hear him, didn't see him in my peripheral vision…not until his pale hand clamped down over the barrel of the Berretta. He even managed to slip his index finger under mine to keep me from misfiring in shock.
I snapped my head to the side, wrenching the gun out of his power, and floundering with my other arm for George behind me. She caught my cast in both hands and pulled me back a step. She was letting the newcomer take over and take over he did. I had no idea what was going on, but those gray eyes that met mine when he had grabbed the gun struck a familiar nerve in me. Great, just who we were looking for and here he was to save the day.
He was shorter than I remembered…
"You here to help or make this worse with that smart mouth of yours?"
He gave me a brief perplexed look, but it was all I needed to realize quickly that this obvious teenager was not Caliban Leandros. I lifted the gun on him and herded George against my back. He didn't seem to care about us though, tilting his chin up as he assessed the Wolves.
"You need to leave. Your blood stinks and it's difficult to clean it from the sidewalk." His voice was a level tenor, smooth and almost calming. Or rather, he sounded like a teacher lecturing a problem student. As I stared at his profile he differentiated himself as an individual I'd never seen before. Definitely a teen, with a long nose, a full lipped mouth, and long dark lashes lining those strikingly light eyes. His skin was nearly flawless, even though he was still going through puberty, marred only by old scars along his neck. They looked like bite marks; Wolf bite marks.
With this in mind, –a history with these monsters clear– I steadied my aim on the werewolves again. By this kid's words, he didn't want a fight and I would be more than happy to walk away without sharp teeth attached to my ankle. The hungry Wolf paced around both of us, out into the street. Not that there were many cars passing by on this type of road, no one wanted to drive into the inky blackness of hell. There was some snarling and a few English curses mixed in, then the leader (I couldn't actually consider him an Alpha as this pack didn't seem to be complete) lunged at our savior.
It was a feint. He pulled back immediately, straightening as much as his curved spine would allow. His nostrils flared and his thin lips were drew back to show a full set of yellowed human teeth. "Peri…you're not right. You don't smell right."
"If you wish to cause trouble please do so elsewhere. My granduncle doesn't wish for more bodies strewn about outside of his establishment," the boy continued. I glanced to the building we stood outside of and realized with a start that George and I had managed to reach our destination. Our stand off was right next to a well-lit bar with a wooden front framed around two large windows. A neon sign overhead proclaimed it was, as suspected, the Ninth Circle. Inside was dimly lit, but the movement of bodies was clear along with what looked to be a décor centered around several large tree trunks that were stretching and sprouting all around the building itself. The heating bill in the winter had to have been a strain.
"A peri bar?" I muttered to myself, wondering why the relatively reserved and slightly righteous race would both cater to alcoholic debauchery and associate with an Auphe. Even a half Auphe. The peris and the Auphe did not have an amicable history together, even before human populations exploded.
Sharp movement among the werewolves averted my attention back to them. The hungry one snapped his mouth full of canine teeth at the boy, but that was the last threat he would make. In a flash of black fabric and cream skin, the Wolf's nape was in the kid's grasp –back exposed to him. He planted his foot on the curved spine and kicked hard enough for the Wolf's vertebrate to snap. The beast howled and crumpled to the ground. The rest darted into motion. I shoved George toward the bar without a backward glance and opened fire.
The boy and I finished off the young pack within seconds. My bullet to an ignorant head and another neck snapped by the gray-eyed teenager's bare hands. The two remaining were those that had hung back. The female growled inhumanly, guarding what was probably the youngest pup, but neither of them moved. I didn't want to finish the job. There was no reason. These were children stretching their egotism. When to fire and when to lift my finger from the trigger; this was a time for me to still my hand. The kid beside me seemed to realize this as well.
He eyed me as if to assess my level of threat next. In front of us the other two werewolves slunk away down the alley, dragging their allies with them. The only one they left was the one I'd shot. I frowned, realizing the kid had only damaged their spines, which took them out of the fight, but wouldn't kill a werewolf. The Wolf whose neck he broke would likely die if he wasn't already, but the one he kicked would survive. He was better than me, kinder than me…
His gaze flitted up and over my shoulder, attention drawn. I turned in fear of my fiancé and what other trouble she found. George was gone from my side. Without my notice a small pixie of a woman had caught her arm and pulled her back against the side of the building, probably when the gun reported. I raised my aim upon the newcomer. No matter how innocent she looked –round faced, doe-eyed, and with the full lips and pale skin of a doll– she could be far more dangerous than even an Alpha Wolf.
Her hand was to George's shoulder. Soft, no restraining grip to it; Georgina could have shrugged to remove it, but I didn't trust anyone on this street. "I wouldn't do that," she murred. The doll's head tipped toward the boy. "He's rather protective of me."
I could feel the kid take a step behind me. They had me flanked and they had a hostage. The woman, girl…I couldn't tell her age, lifted her hand from George's shoulder and offered me a smile. "We don't want to hurt you if that helps at all. In fact, I would be happy to escort you both to a…safer part of town."
"And then what? You take your turn at the humans?" I snapped. I reached across the gap for George's arm. She did one better in grabbing on tight to my sleeve and stumbling against my side for protection. It was comforting that she had that confidence in me and I didn't intend to fail her. I should have known that wasn't her ploy though.
George was not a wilting flower, she didn't cower and she didn't shake. She managed to talk a Puca out of fleecing her purse, she'd stopped a bar fight between huge drunk men and a vampire with a chip on his shoulder, and she'd kept her head when faced with the red-eyed nightmare grinning as he mentally eviscerated her. She didn't come into my arms for protection against monsters, but to protect the monsters from me. "Josh, wait."
The female lifted her hands before her as Georgina pulled my gun to aim at the asphalt. There was a shimmer behind the doll-like girl and a sudden light, then there were wings. At least twice her small height in berth and beautiful. They were barred in soot or a charcoal color, veined subtly in red. A peri. A small peri, but winged nonetheless. I glanced back at the boy, remembering the werewolf called him a peri, remembering we were in front of a peri bar. I lowered my weapon, loosened it in my grip, and slipped it back into its holster.
"You might want to invest in a silencer as well. The police will still venture here sometimes," the female peri cautioned.
"You," Georgina whispered. Her whimsy from earlier had dissipated quite a bit, when exactly what I had feared happened. Now she looked as if she'd just seen the ghost of her father standing before her. Her arms were wrapped around her waist in a hug; her body was listing toward the female, but her feet seemed as if she wanted to run in another direction. "You're…"
"Castiella," the peri offered. She extended her hand toward George. They had a similar energy, an illumination from within, but I doubted this woman had the same gift as George. Their beauty was more than physical, though they were both very attractive on a superficial stand point as well. Georgina wrapped her amber-hued hand around the peri's pale one.
"Georgina King," she answered without hesitation and without the false name I pleaded for her to give. If he didn't remember her unforgettable essence then Grimm might remember her name. The peri, Castiella, tilted her head to the side as if the name rang a bell for her too. Her fingers, just as dainty as George's, slid back from their shake. Her eyes – a dark brown like cherry wood or mahogany – raked up and down my fiancé's form, then panned over to me in caution.
"Josh." Might as well introduce myself too.
"You're his," George continued. Now she was smiling, mirthful and excited. "You're Cal's lover. You're the one I saw! You're alive!" With that elated expression George glanced over at the boy, the smile only faltering slightly from uncertainty. "And…"
Castiella followed her sidelong look, then shot a more fearful one down the street with a frown. "Hon, put your hood up, please." She was talking to the boy and his expression soured; the first he'd shown outside of level impassivity.
"I already discussed this with dad—"
"And you didn't discuss it with me," she countered. Like a mother. Holy shit.
I stepped back to get both Castiella and the boy into my sights as well as to let her approach him. Caliban's gray eyes and this Castiella's bowed mouth. This was their son. And the son obediently pulled up his hood to prevent anyone else from noticing the same. This wasn't good. Proclaiming I was in over my head just became a vast understatement. Even if Caliban was able to help us with the nemesis Hob, I was going to be burned from the Vigil's lips if they found out I associated with a Red Flag fugitive and didn't inform them that his family was still alive. The apprentice patch in my pocket felt like it was on fire.
"Well," Castiella murmured. She ran her hand down her son's back and spun on the ball of one foot to face me. "My best guess is that you are looking for Cal? May I ask for what means?"
"We need his help," I chimed in. I could understand the waver in her voice, the suspicion on her face. I wasn't a wilting flower either, but I knew the look of a woman that had just seen the first love of her lover walk through the door. I'd felt the same jealousy when George immediately wanted to run to Caliban for safety. I took George's hand, her left hand, and made sure the ring was in view. It was modest; not a huge diamond that cast sparkling lights about under the dim street lamps, but a creature skilled at all observational techniques would notice. "There is a monster after my fiancé and I want help in killing him."
She lifted her eyebrows, a shade or two darker than her hair. Where Georgina's curls were the shade of autumn leaves lit by a fiery sunset, the peri's flowed in long waves over her shoulders like those same leaves weeks before the first snow. "Normally that would be a very odd request, but considering…" Castiella stopped and rested her hands on her hips. "The boys are currently on a job at the moment. Would you like me to have them come here when they are done or would you rather the comfort of a place that isn't stinking of Wolf and revenant?"
She was small, slender, and completely unassuming. A peri, a peri sleeping with a half Auphe? I had the distinct feeling that the Manhattan Chapter, shrouded in rumor to begin with, had left a tremendous amount of information regarding their fabled projects. His lover and son were supposed to be dead. The lover shot down by parties unknown and the son consumed by fire. The Vigil here declared no connection to any of it.
My breath caught as the piece of the puzzle snapped into place. Funny how it caught my eye, those articles on the warehouse fires where no casualties were reported. The comments, no matter how crazy posters' comments were, coined a female with wings, an angel smiting the sinners. I followed after that angel as she led us away from the bar, back toward the safer streets we came from. Their son was said to have died in a fire, the scars on this boy's neck were most definitely from a werewolf, and every location that was set ablaze that night was in affiliation with the Kin. They most certainly pissed a peri off; honestly, the Kin were lucky daddy hadn't joined in on the vengeance spree. What still bothered me was the van I'd seen in the reporter's photo. If the Vigil had no connection why were they there?
"Judging by the bruises on your beau the monster has already shown its face to you," Castiella commented as we walked. I was surprised when the son allowed me to keep a pace behind him. The ladies took the head and somehow –in his calm presence– I felt like George was safer with him at her flank than even me. His mother was peri and his father half Auphe; angel and devil bedded together and now I understood why the word Nephilim was whispered with rumors of an heir to Caliban's throne.
In his own right, Caliban could be considered a Nephilim; a son of man and a god – even if that god was more akin to the demons of hell. Some people even claim the wars between the peris and the Auphe were how the stories of fallen angels battling those in liege with God began. The Auphe were Lucifer's kin…of course that didn't explain why the Morning Star was considered handsome, but exaggeration was key in a good story. I believed in God, but like many questioned the validity of the bible. Some reasons for that skepticism were profoundly walking in front of me for starters.
"We were blindsided by him," George explained. She elaborated as carefully as she dared. Mentioned that I was trained in firearms, but it did little to preserve us. I couldn't argue. She didn't, however, tell Castiella who our adversary was or what he wanted. "If it's all right with you, I would rather explain more when Cal is with us."
Castiella smiled and nodded amiably. She didn't ask anymore, but pressed more toward small talk. Even asking about Georgina's plans for our wedding. It kept the conversation neutral and made all of us more comfortable for the duration of the subway ride that took us to Broadway of all places. As content as I was walking streets were the majority of bodies was compromised of humans, it made me nervous to know a man such as Caliban was living in an area that seemed to be devoid of monsters. Like a wolf amongst the sheep herd.
Castiella trotted up a short set of stairs to a towering apartment complex right off of Broadway. Even George had to pause as the peri opened the door. Both of us were gazing up at the gleaning glass architecture stretched skyward above us. I felt the kid slip passed to begin leading the way into the complex without any concern for us. Castiella just smiled warmly. "Come on. It isn't made of candy and I'm not going to shove you into an oven."
"It's much different than Cal's usual home sweet home," George murmured. Castiella laughed.
"If it makes you more comfortable it's actually Promise's home sweet home, she just has a few tenants." Promise, the vampire Georgina mentioned, was dating Caliban's brother. Vampires were known for making good financial choices over the centuries they lived. From hoarding items they knew would be priceless in time to inheriting millions with fraudulent activity. I decided I wouldn't ask how this Promise came upon the million that it would cost to own a home in this area of Manhattan.
Several million considering the sprawling penthouse Castiella ushered us into. I just stood in the living area with my eyes wide and my mouth nearly gaping. It was stylized for the modern era. Granite, cool lines, leather chairs, and tastefully framed artwork. Since there weren't any kill trophies or gun racks nailed to the walls I had to assume the vampire had been the one to decorate. That would also explain the blackout curtains. I forgot my father's rules for a moment, lost in this luxury.
"Welcome to our home," Castiella said sweetly. I startled as she'd swung around behind me. Her hand already running experimentally down my injured arm. I tensed and jerked away despite the pain it caused beneath the cast. "You're right handed, aren't you?"
I didn't answer as she circled around me. It wasn't the prowl of a predator, more like a lion cub skipping around a new playmate. Her son plopped down on a barstool next to the kitchen island. The room had an open concept which left the living, kitchen, and dining areas completely exposed. It also left the kid with a clear view of everyone from his perch and he watched with that impassive observance. Castiella stopped her circling in front of me. "Ambidextrous with a gun then? It was a good shot on that pup, not a lucky shot."
I wasn't sure if it was a compliment, but I let her continue to study me. She was being respectful enough not to touch me again at least. "My father taught me."
"He taught you well," she offered. Her eyes were entrancing; the color seemed to shift between different shades of browns and reds as I held them. "How's the pain? I can dip into Cal's secret stash if you want something with a little more oomph than aspirin."
I shook my head. "I can endure."
Castiella's eyebrow lifted in a quirk and she stretched her neck to her shoulder to give George a look I couldn't read. "You have a type, hm? Stubborn, gun-toting, cutie with just a touch of arrogance and a vast distrust of everyone and everything."
George giggled, rubbing a consoling hand over my shoulder opposite to the one Castiella had just touched.
"Georgina?" I tensed at the lilting voice that joined us. I hadn't sensed or heard anyone else in the home and that just made my throat close in nerves. George took it in stride; happily scampered over to the porcelain sculpture come to life she called Promise. They hugged like long lost friends.
I was out of my league. Positively and unequivocally out of my league. And things didn't get much better when the door opened behind me. I swung around with my Berretta already extended and level with a head shot. I was greeted in turn with the thick barrel of a Desert Eagle between my eyes. I would die for Georgina, without question, but I never thought it would be tonight.