Vengeance Moon Read online

  “The base points of a Triad are a sacrifice,” I said, catching on.

  No one answered, which was an answer in itself.

  “So, how did I wind up with the Morié and Solaire?” I stuck my finger in my shirt and rubbed my finger over the amulet.

  “Obviously, the Earth Mother wanted you to have them,” Abigail said. She frowned. “Though I don’t know why.”

  “I don’t either.” And I didn’t. I was immune to earth magic anyway. Abigail knew I was immune to earth magic. The Sisters did not. I cast my eyes around the room. I wasn’t getting any answers from the Sisters. “It doesn’t matter.” I caught her gently by the arm. “Let’s get you to your car.”

  She hugged me. It startled me. From their faces, I’d say it surprised the Sisters, too. Exactly how much discord was there between witch and warrior?

  “Does she know about the Portal?” Hildy asked after Abigail left.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “She’s in direct contact with the Earth Mother, but I don’t think the Mother tells her everything. The Mother plays war games with blind soldiers.”

  “What do you want us to do?” Lillian asked. Was she ceding control to me again?

  “Okay.” I grinned at them. “I need help. I need copies of a drawing. The man I’m looking for. We can start walking up and down River Street.” I figured that River Street was only one block deep in most places. Three of us could cover a lot of ground. “Try to keep the story simple. Long-lost brother who owes me money. Something benign.”

  It wasn’t much, but it was a start. I might get lucky. I figured it would take luck to pull it off.

  Chapter 21

  When I went to my room to get the drawing, I found Spot staring at the chicken.

  “Something wrong, Spot?”

  He chirped.

  “Go ahead.” I gestured at the chicken. “I don’t have any way to warm it.”

  Spot snatched a piece of chicken and dropped down to Grace. He served her first. I’d been taught that Drows were dangerous, and certainly Cassandra had experiences with that. I hoped there was some way to help these little creatures, no matter what they were. They had an air of civility that was rare, even in humans.

  I retrieved the drawing from my room and brought it to Hildy, who had a functioning copy machine in the back. Hildy glared at Eunice and occasionally glared at her now-empty storefront. Eunice had cleared it to make a fighting practice room, one that I was sure she would demand that I use soon. Hildy probably didn’t have much business, but Eunice had battered her with the usual Eunice sledgehammer.

  “I’m going to talk to Michael,” I told them. “Maybe show the picture to a few people on the way.”

  He had said he’d pick me up at two, but if I asked the Sisters to go door-to-door, I’d better do it, too.

  “What about this Aiakós?” Eunice asked. She sounded eager.

  A chill came over me. I held up a hand. “Do not go looking for Aiakós, Eunice. I beg you. I do not know what kind of Drows you have battled in the past, but he’s not the same. He is not a mere animal.”

  Eunice sneered. “Oh, my. Is it because he’s your pretty boy’s daddy?”

  “No.” Hildy ignored Eunice’s nasty looks and lit up. “It’s because he will tear you apart.” She sighed and blew out the smoke. “I’ve seen him, Eunice. Annihilation is the word. Twenty of us couldn’t take him. And the Earth Mother wants him here. He’s her pet. Leave him be.”

  “What?” Lillian’s eyebrows went up. “He’s bronze-proof?”

  Hildy chuckled. “Don’t know. Don’t want to find out.” She pulled a deep lungful of smoke.

  Eunice grumbled and stalked out.

  It was early, so I stopped at a small café and bought a coffee and a sweet roll. I bought a second roll and made a pig of myself—but it had been at least twelve hours since I’d eaten. The way things were going, I didn’t know when I’d get to eat again.

  I stopped often as I walked on. A few had seen my man. Not often, just occasionally. Day, sometimes night. I might just come across him after all.

  As I passed through the Archangel’s parking lot, the number of high-end vehicles amazed me. I bet they came for Michael, just as they came to the Goblin Den to see him. As I approached the place, I saw that it was a high-end exercise studio. I had never thought to ask what kind of business it was. Michael was clearly diverse in his business ventures. Maybe that was part of his success.

  The morning exercise crowd stared when I walked into the Archangel. But they quickly turned away. A heavy-duty bouncer type edged closer, studying me, assessing a possible threat. As Cassandra had said, Michael had hired people to protect his exclusive clientele. I didn’t think he could see the knives under my jacket, but I wasn’t sure. I waited for him to challenge me. He didn’t. He didn’t stop watching either.

  The perky little blonde at the desk did not smile. I’d wager she was barely eighteen. She had a great body and wore a tight, stretchy outfit that displayed it well. Her name tag with its little angel wings said she was Candice. Of course she was. I’d never been blond, but perhaps, for a brief time, I’d been pretty and perky. I couldn’t remember. She pushed her upper arms together to enhance her cleavage. Not for my benefit, but it was probably habit by now.

  “Do you have an appointment?” Candice, for all her youth, knew how to pitch her voice in a tone that said I was not worthy of such a high-class establishment.

  “I’m here to see Michael.”

  She gave me a look that said I lived in a fantasy world, filled with delusions that I might actually be someone Michael would honor with his presence.

  “He’s not in.” She said it so abruptly she had to be lying.

  “Candy, I think you’ve made a mistake.” I talked to her as I would to a naughty child. “Why don’t you try to find him?”

  She glanced at the bouncer, looking for help. He shrugged. He’d probably assessed that I was no real threat. A bit careless, though, since my jacket covered some deadly weapons. He probably just didn’t like her either.

  “My name is Candice.” She spoke in a tone as tight as her ass, but she picked up the phone. After a moment she said, “Sir, there’s a woman to see you.”

  “It’s Madeline, Candy.” It seemed petty, pushing little girls around, but I was enjoying myself doing the Eunice thing.

  “Her name is Madeline,” Candy said quickly. Her face fell as Michael spoke on the other end. She hung up the phone, her face a mask of pure hatred. “He’ll be right down.”

  “Thank you.” I spoke politely, but my smile was pure I told you so.

  Michael’s studio, the appropriately named Archangel, was a bright and airy place, filled with machines, green plants, and people. A snack bar was tucked into one corner and the ceiling was two stories high. There were stairs along the back wall to a second floor. Moments later, Michael hurried down them to meet me. As he did, the same collective sigh that had occurred in the Den last night greeted him.

  I inwardly groaned. Magnificent as usual, he was as beautiful as a movie star in a glamour photo. Last night I had kissed him. He had kissed me. But some little worm of doubt still wiggled in my mind. How could it not? From the moment he met me, he had pushed for a relationship, one I wasn’t sure I was ready for.

  Michael slid an arm around me, drew me close, and kissed me lightly on the mouth.

  The crowd gasped. I was shocked as well. He didn’t appear to notice.

  “I’m glad you came.” Michael frowned. “Is something wrong?”

  I shook my head. He’d left me speechless again. I had to get over that.

  Michael held my hand and led me up to his office. I didn’t like the possessiveness, but it was his place and I didn’t want to make a scene.

  We entered a room where a massive window overlooked the floor. Sleek and modern, his office had a single glass-top desk, a long creamy leather couch, chairs in the corner, and a small bar. I grinned. “You don’t work here, do you?”

&n
bsp; He laughed. “I don’t work at all. I pay people to do things for me.”

  I shook my head. Humility was not one of his virtues.

  I handed him the drawing. He stared for a long time, then handed it back to me. “I’ve seen him.”

  I quirked an eyebrow. I wasn’t expecting a lead so early.

  Michael touched the picture. “He washed dishes in the kitchen for a while, I think. Months ago. I don’t usually keep tabs on dishwashers, but we had problems with him. He was unstable—couldn’t function and couldn’t take care of himself. The manager drove him to one of the homeless shelters. I told the staff to feed him if he came by again. We’ll ask them.” He picked up a cell phone from the desk and handed it to me. “In the meantime, this is for you. When I’m not around. It won’t work deep in the Barrows, but it does work on the periphery and on River Street. I programmed my number and the Archangel’s private and public lines. If you need me, you can call.”

  I dropped the phone when the building’s alarms blared like a freight train horn. Michael rushed for his office door. When he threw it open, shouts and screams poured in from the studio floor below. Worse, the crack of gunshots broke the air over the sound of the alarm.

  I followed. An ugly scene spread out below me. Six men had the fitness crowd backed up against a wall, lined up like victims of a firing squad. The gunmen appeared ordinary in size and build, dressed in jeans, shirts, jackets; you could pass them on the street without notice—except for the ski masks. Every one of them had a significant pistol in his hand. All I had were knives.

  Michael didn’t slow. He reached the bottom of the steps and snatched the first man he reached, lifted him bodily over his head, and threw him at the others. The man hit his companions like a runaway truck. He didn’t just knock them down; he plowed through three of them, flattening them. Michael snatched up another one and threw him. The force wrapped the man’s body around a weight-lifting machine like a contortionist in a circus side show. I stopped and stared in shock. Michael was using bodies like bowling balls.

  The sudden eruption of violence—and Michael’s entrance—had brought gasps and cries from the patrons still lined up against the wall. Even in the midst of terror, they focused on him, not the true danger, the men with guns.

  One of the men still standing turned his gun to Michael. Michael tore it out of his hand and smashed the man’s face with his fist as if he were punching a loaf of bread dough. The odors of blood and terror, stirred by the air-conditioning, filled the room.

  A single gunshot. Michael’s body jerked. A splash of blood appeared in the middle of his back, a scarlet bloom on his pure white silk shirt.

  Michael whirled to face the shooter, who held a large-caliber pistol.

  Again, the man pulled the trigger. This one hit Michael in the chest. I heard it, a solid smack of metal in flesh.

  Enormous silence fell after the sharp crack of gunfire. Michael stood where he should have fallen dead. Then he growled. Not a warning, but the full savage attack of a wolf. More terrifying was the pleasure in that growl. He wanted to kill.

  In two steps, Michael had the shooter. He didn’t even bother to take the gun away. As with the others, he picked him up, but this one he threw through the front plate-glass window. The man didn’t even slow down as he hit the glass. He landed in the middle of River Street. Tires screeched, horns blasted—I’m relatively certain he was already dead or at least unconscious when the cars ran over him.

  The lone remaining would-be thief ran, scrambling out the shattered window since it was closer than the door. Sirens sounded in the distance as the fallen lay there either still and silent or slowly moaning.

  Michael instantly whirled and raced through a door in the back wall of the studio.

  I followed him into a hallway with multiple doors. I’d been a part of much violence at Justice, but nothing at the speed and level of the last minute.

  “Michael.” My voice sounded nearly hysterical as I blindly ran after him. A door to my right opened. I faced a rectangle of black, a windowless room.

  “Come in,” Michael said. He was close. His voice sounded deep and filled with mystery. He sounded like Aiakós. “Close the door.”

  I did as he asked. Total darkness filled the room; then a small light came on. He stood with his back to me. I laid my hand on his shirt, on the bloody hole where the bullet had struck. His back was solid. It had healed just as his hand had last night.

  Michael turned to face me. He had changed. His face was a mask of Aiakós’s ferocity, and his skin glowed as if polished with fine oil. His eyes were no longer the wonderful blue I had known. They captivated me, animal gold, intense and predatory. Did anger, rage bring out his inner nature? A bit of a shape-shifter was this son of Aiakós, the demon who ruled the Zombie Zone. To be with him would be like loving a great golden cat. Not safe, but infinitely exciting.

  I laid a hand on his chest. His heart beat under my fingers, steady and strong. As each moment passed, I realized he was everything I wanted in a man—both gentle and brutal by turn, if he needed to be.

  “You’re not afraid?” Surprise filled his voice, as if he had believed I would run away.

  “No. Yes.” He was destroying me. My body cried for him. I ran my hand down his chest. He rubbed the back of his hand against my cheek. His claws were not Aiakós’s, but they would tear flesh nonetheless.

  The gold in his eyes faded and the blue returned. He drew a deep breath. The glorious smile returned. My smile. He smiled at me, truly at me, knowing me. For the first time, I believed, truly believed. He wanted me.

  “I was afraid for you. In the studio.”

  “They were just Bastinados, most likely. Thieves who wanted to steal from my wealthy clients.”

  I couldn’t tear my eyes from him. He took a step closer. “Now you know me.” He wrapped his arms around me. “I will change shape like this when we make love. But I am in control in this state. I won’t hurt you. Madeline, you are incredibly beautiful in my eyes. You have so much power over me. From that moment you lay dying in my arms, I knew I had to have you, to save you. I don’t know what will become of me if you can’t accept me.”

  A tiny fountain of self-preservation rose in me, followed by the briefest second of panic. “Don’t try to control me. That is something I cannot bear.”

  “That is a battle I’ll fight every day because I want to protect you.” He stood a little straighter. “I will protect you. I will kill for you—”

  “Stop. I don’t want that. I’ll do my own killing.” I turned away from him. It wasn’t what I meant, but he needed to know I wasn’t defenseless.

  From the first moment I saw him, I wanted him. I would, however, at all costs, protect my independence. No matter how difficult, arrogant, and controlling Michael proved to be.

  Blaring noises came from outside the room. Michael glared at the door, as if his anger alone would make everything go away. It didn’t work. Approaching sirens shrieked, coming closer.

  “We need to take care of this immediately,” he said. In a second he had stripped off the bloodied shirt and handed it to me. “Will you dispose of this?”

  I accepted the shirt.

  He gave me a quick kiss. “We can talk later.”

  “Talk.”

  “Well, maybe we can do some other things, too.”

  “Other things?” Damn, I sounded like a parrot.

  He laughed softly. “Only if you want to.”

  “Yes. No. I can’t decide that right now.” Oh, hell, I couldn’t even think.

  He left me there and I went on autopilot. I rolled the shirt in a tight bundle and held it close. The front of the studio was filled with police and EMTs, people I didn’t want to see. I hurried out the back door.

  Chaos churned in my mind, stirring everything into an emotional soup. Relationships. Sex. I didn’t know what I thought, and I didn’t know what I wanted. So I fixated on the thing I was here for. The Portal. I had to find the Portal. And the man
who had killed my parents. I couldn’t be distracted by any other man—or whatever Michael happened to be.

  Chapter 22

  The alley behind the Archangel stretched a good three blocks parallel to River Street. I walked away at a steady pace, past the foul-smelling Dumpsters. No hurry, no rush. I wouldn’t attract attention, not that there was anyone around to see me. After I scanned the area to be sure I was alone, the shirt went in a Dumpster filled with food waste. I found a piece of pipe and jammed it deep.

  I cut back to River Street and caught the uptown bus. I had to think. I wanted to think, try to make sense of things. The magical things I had seen in my early life seemed tame compared to the last few days. I had a man, a half-human man, whom I desired enough to die for; a killer to find; the Portal to find. No matter what action I took, it got sidetracked in another direction.

  The bus crossed the Sullen River and rolled into the downtown transfer hub, where it parked with at least ten others of its kind. I climbed off and the buses around me rumbled and pumped out toxic diesel smoke like mechanical versions of Hildy. It left me disoriented and longing for clean air.

  The sun warmed the day, but a breeze kept the temperature from rising above a moderate spring morning. Benches placed amid planters of multicolored flowers decorated the small urban park. I sat under a lovely maple tree.

  Earth magic shimmered around me, as it did with all living things. I breathed in and let it fill me up. I loved the life I could sense in this world, even if I couldn’t use it to create potions and spells. The Earth Mother came, sliding in on a breeze. She remained invisible this time, but I could feel her. A single tiny flower drifted from nowhere and landed in my hand.

  “Tell me why you let them die. Why you didn’t help them.” I spoke in a whisper, one filled with bitterness. “My mother loved you, trusted you.” There was no answer. I hadn’t expected one, but I suppose I could hope.