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“Ah!” Benson’s arms spread as wide as the grin on his face. He yelled over the running vacuum. “We’re almost done! I was just going to have someone get you two!”
A few members of the Army of Light bustled around the room, tidying up after the recent attack. Dust covered most of the furniture. The final remnants were being wiped with polish and rags.
The vacuum switched off and the cleaning crew scampered to the exit, leaving a hollow quiet in the space.
Broderick surveyed the conference room, filled with those who’d been designated officers in the Army of Light. Angus, Kahli, the Hunters, Peter, Cordelia and Malloren, Anthony and Korban were all in attendance.
Rick’s son and the earth mage leaned against the back wall nearest the door. Anthony pouted, probably pissed that he and Korban couldn’t focus on the mirror. Though not an officer, per se, Korban and his talents as an Elemental had already proven useful to the team.
Rick narrowed his eyes at the earth mage’s haggard appearance. His five o’clock shadow, mussed hair and bloodshot eyes. God’s blood, the man looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks.
“Please.” Benson pointed at the standing occupants. “Have a seat and we can get started.”
Broderick placed a possessive hand at the small of Davina’s back, guiding her to a pair of chairs next to Malloren. She was nose-deep in a leather-covered journal scarred by time, the pages yellowed with age.
“Ye mean there’s a book in the archives ye haven’t already devoured?” Broderick sat next to the prophetess.
“Angus’s journal.” She hooked her finger between the pages to hold her place. “He recorded everything he could recall after feeding from the Army of Light members when he was creating his shielding cloak. It’s fascinating. I’ll be adding it to the archives as soon as I’m finished.”
She’d breezed over the cloak as if it were nothing more than an artifact of curiosity and returned to the last few pages of the journal.
Dozens of men and women had been murdered by Angus to create the lamb-skin cloak. Although Broderick had forgiven his brother—he was no longer the man he’d been so many centuries ago—brushing those innocent lives aside seemed callous to Rick.
Their blessed blood had been painted on the leather, followed by a coat of lanolin to help keep it supple. The purpose had been to protect Angus from the Hebrew Incantation used to ward off Vamsyrians.
It had also given him the ability to walk through any protective barrier erected by the Army of Light, as well as those initiated by Broderick after Malloren had taught him the same protective spell.
Where the cloak was now was anyone’s guess. Last he’d seen, it had been burned when Davina—as Monika, a fire Elemental—had defended them against Angus’s attack and his plans to have them burned at the stake as heretics.
“Thank you all for coming on such a short notice.” Benson turned on the projector and the lights over the screen were dimmed.
Anthony took the seat across from Broderick, leaving Korban at the back of the room by the door. The earth mage crossed his arms and settled his rump against the cabinet.
“Our intel from the Pentagon has informed us the Illuminati have discovered the secret of how to kill the Vamsyrian King. Malloren, would you please bring everyone up to speed?”
She scanned the last page, closed the journal and took it with her as she switched places with the Head Administrator. “The identities of the Vamsyrian King and his son, the Prince, are now known to the Illuminati. Only a very few select people in the Army of Light were aware of who they really were.”
“And I suppose you were one o’ those select people?” Broderick snarled under his breath.
The prophetess nodded, but didn’t make eye contact with him. “Go ahead, Cliff.”
The Head Administrator tapped his remote and the projector switched to portraits of the Vamsyrian Prince and the man whom Broderick assumed was the current ruler of the vampire race, as he had never seen the King before.
Malloren pointed over her shoulder. “The rest of the supernatural world knows them as Samil and Jesse Amir, the current reigning royals of the Vamsyrians. They are, in fact, Judas of Iscariot and his only son, first and only rulers of our race.”
Davina stiffened. And though barely audible, her slight gasp didn’t get by Broderick.
He casually glanced at his wife and raised his brows.
Her eyes darted to his, and she cupped her hand around her mouth. “The son looks familiar.”
“Ye met him once when ye were Christabelle.”
Davina squinted as if searching the past, but she didn’t seem convinced. “I guess so.” She shrugged and turned her attention back to Malloren.
“Around the tail end of the fifth century A.D., Judas and his son razed the various Army of Light Archives, which weren’t many at the time, and tried to make it look like a rebellion had taken place against the Vamsyrian Queen. This is why most people were under the impression the first vampire was a woman. They fabricated the female ruler of the vampires and the whole ruse was meant to throw everyone off track because Judas and his son didn’t want anyone to learn about the weapon that could be used against them—the thirty pieces of silver Judas was paid to betray the Christ. These coins bind the blood contract between Satan and Judas. They are also the reason the King is immune to silver. All silver except these coins, which are indestructible.”
The room stirred and whispers rustled around the tense atmosphere.
“The visions I had led me to the Star of Bethlehem, and told of the weapon that could kill the Vamsyrian King. It was only a matter of time before I put the pieces together and figured out the identity of the King, myself.”
“Thank you, Malloren.” Benson stood and headed to the screen at the front of the room.
She picked up the cue and returned to her seat beside Broderick. Though, once again, she avoided eye contact and focused on the Head Administrator.
“Unfortunately,” Benson continued. “As the second Vamsyrian ever created, the Prince has powers many of us don’t understand that are exclusive to him and his father. He used them on the prophetess and was thereby able to get all the coins Malloren had in her possession.”
Her head dipped, but she maintained her controlled façade.
“Based on Malloren’s information, two coins have yet to be accounted for, though we have reason to believe one of them is with Judas.”
“And the other?” Broderick asked.
“According to Malloren’s source at the Pentagon, the Illuminati somehow intercepted it and hid it at the Getty Museum.” Benson clicked to a slide for the Relics of the Holy Land tour. “The problem is, we don’t know if this is a fake information or the Getty Museum is really where they’re hiding the coin. It could be they think it’s safe there. Through our own intelligence gathering, we’ve learned the Illuminati have been buzzing around the museum ever since the exhibit arrived. So, they’re either using the false info as a decoy or they’re genuinely guarding it. Regardless, we need to get that coin before Jesse does, but we don’t want to go charging in without being sure the coin is there.” Benson turned to Rick. “I believe you still have the Star of Bethlehem in your possession?”
“Aye.” Broderick met his son’s gaze. “Go ahead and give it to him, Tony.”
With a reluctant nod, Anthony slipped his fingers into the breast pocket of his Nehru-collar blazer and produced the magical compass.
“Excuse me.” Korban chomped on his toothpick. “Star of Bethlehem?”
Broderick started and swiveled in his chair.
Korban’s face was clean-shaven, his eyes clear and his hair neatly combed. When the hell did he have time to shave and shower?
“Yes, Dr. Frost.” Benson took the relic from Anthony and held it up for everyone to see. “The magi used to it find the Christ child when he was born. It’s a magical compass that will show you the way to anything you wish to find. Very handy if the coin is not at the museum.” Benson pivoted to his assistant. “Nelson, if you please?”
He grabbed a rolled map from the floor beside his chair and unfurled it onto the conference table.
Korban grumbled and resettled against the cabinet as the team held open the large diagram of Southern California. “Damn, that thing could’ve saved me a lot of heartache.” His gaze met Broderick’s. “Any chance I could use it after this is over?”
“I’m open to discussin’ it.” Along with a few other things. Unraveling the Elemental’s quick-change skills definitely piqued Rick’s curiosity.
Holding the compass in his palm, Benson closed his eyes. “The final silver coin.” He blinked and set the compass near the bottom, holding it between his index finger and thumb.
The needle spun and stopped, pointing in a northwest direction. He pushed the compass to the center of the map and the needle gradually pointed west as he passed over East Los Angeles. He continued toward Pasadena and the needle crept in a southern direction. Sliding the compass back, he grinned as the needle stayed on true west where the Getty Museum was circled in red. Benson passed over the museum toward Topanga State Park and the needle flipped 180 degrees and pointed east.
“Fascinating.” Korban joined the group, leaning in as he gripped the conference table.
Benson circled the compass around the Getty Museum, and the needle stayed riveted to the location. “Bingo.” He clapped his hands and grinned at Broderick. “We can turn the tide on this conflict if we can get that coin. We’ve already set up a plan and we’d like to go over it with you.”
“Impressive.” Rick stood. “Let’s talk strategy.”
* * * * *
Mikhail slammed the back of his head against the elevator on the long ride to the penthouse floor. He yanked the kerchief from his pocket and wiped the tears streaming down his face.
Ammon had shattered his heart without a second thought.
No, he’s crushed. He’s a wounded animal right now, devastated by what’s happened. Of course, he’s going to lash out. I need to give him some time.
Mikhail shoved his kerchief into his pocket and checked his reflection in the mirrored doors. His red-rimmed eyes were going to give him away but, at this point, he didn’t care. The bell chimed, and he tentatively stepped out to find Jesse in the midst of a long, angry growl.
“Can’t you count?” A clang of metal followed Anat’s accusation, and Mikhail’s eyebrows rose at her belligerent tone.
Surely, the servant wasn’t speaking to Jesse. The woman was bound to lose her head.
Mikhail crept toward the end of the hall and peeked around the corner. Jesse was, indeed, standing before the petite woman who was the right-hand-turned-betrayer to the King.
They faced each other in front of the altar, Jesse’s fists on his hips and his cheeks flushed red in an obvious effort to contain his anger. “Of course, I can count, you imbecile. But I—”
Anat seized the Prince by the throat and lifted him off the floor. His feet only rose a few inches due to her lack of height, but Jesse squirmed under her grasp, nonetheless.
Her eyes glowed red. Mikhail retreated and covered his mouth. Who or what the hell was she to overpower the Prince? Vamsyrians didn’t have glowing red eyes and neither did werewolves.
“All the coins should have been there.” Jesse grappled with her hand, his toes seeking purchase.
“Well, one of them is not! It’s bad enough that bitch Malloren scattered them across Europe. Now that the ritual has approached, we’re unprepared. Count the fucking things. There’s only twenty-nine.”
“Yes...yes...I know.” Jesse rasped a strangled whisper.
“They won’t melt until we get all thirty pieces into the smelting pot!”
“Of course.” Even fainter still.
Mikhail scampered to the elevator, fearing for his life. If Jesse learned he’d witnessed the Prince in such a groveling position, Mikhail was sure he wouldn’t live to tell the tale.
He pressed the call button. The bell dinged, and he cringed.
“I’ll take care of this, you idiot.” A dull thump, and Jesse broke into a coughing fit. “Just get everything else ready.”
The elevator slid open, and Mikhail quickly waltzed out as if he’d just stepped from the car.
Anat marched past him and trotted to beat the closing doors.
Hoping he didn’t appear fazed, Mikhail strolled toward Jesse, who was on his hands and knees picking up the metal brazier and charcoal from the floor.
“Clumsy girl.” Jesse glanced at Mikhail and cursed. “Finish cleaning up this mess.”
No traces remained of his crushed windpipe, thanks to his immortal speedy recovery.
“Of course, Your Highness.” Mikhail bent to the task, grateful his heart had slowed to a normal rate.
“It appears Malloren Rune was able to keep a little secret.” The Prince crossed his arms and leaned against the altar as if everything was business as usual.
But how many times had something like this happened between the Prince and Anat?
“We have a missing coin.” The Prince dusted his hands off on his black slacks. “I can only assume the prophetess was able to hide one from me or she genuinely didn’t know it was missing.”
Mikhail finished gathering the broken charcoal into the brazier and reset it on the altar. A small smelting pot sat in the center, the mold for the stake bound and waiting to be filled.
But it was only one of many items he and Ammon had been tasked to bring along from the United Kingdom, in preparation for the upcoming ritual that would put Jesse on the throne. “Is there anything else I can do to assist you, Your Grace?”
“Not right now.” Jesse waved off the question. “What happened with Ammon? I’m assuming you’re here to report his progress?”
The mention of his lover brought Mikhail’s heartbreak to the forefront, and he wrung his hands behind his back. “I’m afraid...” Damnit.
“Oh, my.” The Prince raised a curious brow. “What is this, my friend? Did they kill your beloved?”
Closing his eyes, Mikhail toiled to keep his grief in check and inhaled a breath for strength. “No, Your Grace, but they may well have done so. He has become... Well, what I can only describe as a gargoyle.”
“A what?” Jesse’s mouth hung open, his hands on his hips.
Tears sliced the backs of his eyes, and Mikhail staggered and collapsed to the nearest step of the dais. “I don’t know if I completely understand what happened.” He stammered, trying to make sense of what Ammon had told him, of what he’d seen. “Ammon did as you asked. He went to Davina and they exchanged a rather small amount of blood. I was hiding close by, just as you instructed. But the transformation...didn’t go well. Once it was done, Ammon fell to his knees. Black veins rushed from his chest to spread over his body. And before I could help him, his skin had turned to stone and he sprouted wings. He looked...hideous. And then he flew away.”
“Where is he now?” Jesse folded his arms, his expression filled more with fascination than concern.
Mikhail bit his tongue to intercept the angry retort fighting to break free. “I had a hard time following him but, eventually, I found him hiding in an abandoned building. His arm and leg were broken. He wouldn’t tell me how he was injured, but he transformed into that stone beast, making his wounds vanish. The angel Gabriel had apparently appeared to him before I got there and explained that, because Ammon’s heart was not sincere about wanting redemption, his punishment was to be turned to stone. He’s mortal and has a sentence of forty years to atone for his sins. He’s supposed to be some guardian of humankind now. If he does anything to intentionally allow mortals to be harmed or if he puts them in any danger when he could have prevented it, he’ll become Satan’s puppet. He’ll lose his free will.”
Lowering his head, Mikhail sobbed. But he didn’t dare share the final blow Ammon had dealt his soul.
Dust sprinkling from his horns, Ammon had glared at Mikhail. “The angel said I had to soften my heart to break the curse.”
“Soften your heart? What the fuck does that mean?”
He snorted and his forked tongue flicked. “That’s exactly what I said. ‘Love is what softens the heart, you barbarian,’ he said. ‘The selfless love of another.’”
Ammon shrank back into his human form and paced, shaking his head, but Mikhail’s chest bloomed with hope.
“Then this will be easy. You love me. Surely that will—”
“For fuck’s sake, Mikhail!” Incredulousness twisted Ammon’s face and his cheek rippled with stone for a fleeting moment. “You, me and Rasheed were stuck with each other when we fled the Vamsyrian Council to hide from the Prince. Where else were we to go? We had strength in numbers, so we stayed together for survival. You were a piece of ass. A means to an end. I can’t believe—”
Mikhail had dashed from the building, unable to bear any more insults. Each one had severed another appendage from his body.
How could he have been so stupid? So blind?
“Mikhail.”
He jolted and clapped his hand over his mouth, suppressing his misery.
“Good god, man.” The Prince yanked him to his feet. “Pull yourself together. You’re better off without him anyway. Why do you think I sent him into the lion’s den? I had to know the consequences if someone tried to get redemption under false pretenses. He answered my question and now you’re rid of the selfish bastard. He’s done us both a favor.”
Jesse slapped him on the back and offered a sympathetic grin as if he’d just consoled Mikhail after some bad news. “Chin up, my friend. The time is finally here for me to take the throne. We have just a few more things to attend to, so come with me.”
The pleasant softness of Jesse’s face morphed into rage. Mikhail shuddered as the Prince marched toward the elevator. “Let’s take a little shopping trip, shall we? And I’ll blow off some steam while we’re at it.”
Mikhail blanched. By all the Gods. A lot of people were going to die this afternoon.