A Dark Kiss Of Rapture

CHAPTER 2

Raze hit the ground running in the Windy City. Within an hour of his plane landing, he’d swept through the building that had once housed Grimm’s operation (presently a printing shop) and checked his way through a quarter of the list of Grimm’s known haunts. Then, impatient, he took a chance and headed to Wrigley Field.

Although the ballpark was dark and quiet for the night, Raze knew wrong when he came across it and he damn well felt it as he drove by. Parking a few streets away, he slid out from behind the wheel and opened the back door of his rental to grab his blades. He strapped them on with the efficiency of long practice: daggers on each thigh and two katanas crisscrossing his back. Then he darted over on foot, moving so quickly the mortal eye couldn’t catch him.

As he approached, he picked up the faint sound of a melodious male voice coming from the field, followed by a chorus of murmurs in reply-sounds too slight for anything but a vampire’s hearing to catch. Grimm had been big on staging, too, which made Raze wonder just how closely this protégé had been to Grimm and how long he or she had been working in the shadows.

He rounded the back of the ballpark and climbed up the rear of the bleachers. Pulling his head up over the top, he looked down at the darkened field below. A lone man stood before a group of approximately two hundred robed and kneeling minions. Segmented into pairs with the men in black and the women in red, they formed a perfect pattern of stripes in the center of the field.

Raze listened to a couple lines of bullshit about the supremacy of the vampire nation, then he tuned it out and focused on the leader. The man was tall and lean, dark-haired and dressed in a three-piece suit. He had a mesmerizing cadence to his speech, a lulling sonorousness that was evident even though Raze had stopped picking out the words.

He debated his next step, knowing this was an elaborate trap for him, one that would be designed with the expectation that he wouldn’t come alone. Which was why he’d done exactly that.

But he could still take them by surprise.

Pulling out his phone, he jumped the hoops necessary to reach Adrian.

“Mitchell,” the Sentinel leader answered.

“It’s Raze. I’ve got a situation you’ll be interested in.”

“Where are you?”

“Chicago.”

“Yes, that is interesting. So am I.”

Raze stilled, his hackles rising at the softness of Adrian’s tone. “That’s not a coincidence.”

“No, it’s not. Location?”

He wasn’t surprised that the angel was so far from his home base in Anaheim, California. That was Adrian’s way. While Syre was cerebral in his leadership, using Raze and Salem to investigate and Vashti as his iron fist, Adrian was the opposite. The Sentinel leader left the administrative duties to others so he could remain a hands-on hunter in the field. A vampire hunter and goaler-those roles being the sole purpose of his existence.

Raze gave his location, then pointed out, “I wouldn’t have called you if I just needed a hand or two. If you’re going to send a couple lycans and call it a night, don’t bother.”

“Don’t tell me how to respond to a request for a favor.” The lack of inflection in the angel’s voice was more disconcerting than an outright threat would have been.

“If you’d let us establish some cabals and covens in the major cities, I wouldn’t need to call you at all.” The Sentinels used their lycans to keep vampires contained in rural, lower population areas. They said the policy was to protect mortals, but the side effect was the hindering of the Fallen’s ability to police their own minions. And every transgression was another mark against them, another smudge barring them from any possibility of redemption.

“How many more rogue minions would there be if vampires were allowed access to such a smorgasbord of food? The spread would become uncontainable. It’s already out of control as it is or you wouldn’t be calling me.”

The line died, leaving Raze cursing at his cell phone. One of these days, he and the angel were going to have it out. But not tonight.

As the couples swayed like hypnotized king cobras, Raze leaped over onto the uppermost bench, then started taking the stairs down, applauding as he went. “Man, you’ve really got your delivery down. I mean, I could almost buy it… if I was a whacked out moron.”

The man lifted his head and looked at Raze, his eyes glowing in the darkness. “Raze, how nice of you to join us. We’ve been expecting you. You are, after all, the guest of honor.”

Although the distance between them was great, neither of them needed to raise their voices to be heard. “I’d say I was more of a bouncer. One who’s going to bounce all your nutty asses into Hell.”

“Where are your friends? Surely you didn’t come to such an occasion alone?”

“Yeah, it’s just me. I tried to round up more of a party, but everyone said it’d be a dud. They were right.” Although he kept his descent easy and casual, Raze was hyperaware of new participants to the game as black-clad minions crawled toward him like ants. “Who are you?”

“Don’t you remember me?”

“Nope. You don’t ring any bells.” He could tell being forgotten really chafed and that made him smile. In the back of his mind, he considered the possibility that Adrian might leave him hanging in the wind-the Sentinel hadn’t actually agreed to show up. But Raze had no choice but to proceed as if reinforcements were on the way. “Why don’t you enlighten me?”

“That’s my goal.” The man walked closer, his arms extended in dramatic fashion. “The Fallen are so busy wishing to be the angels you once were that you never enjoy being what you are.”

Raze pulled one katana out of its sheath, the moonlight glinting off the silver-plated blade. “The only thing I don’t like about what I am now is how much time I have to waste hunting dickheads like you.”

“Ah… you’d prefer to continue your quest to fuck everything willing to sate your lust. Of all the Fallen, you’re one of the most pitiable. At least the others fell for love. You fell only because you can’t keep you dick out of warm, wet holes.”

Pivoting, Raze sliced the head off the minion who’d attempted to come at him from behind. He took out two more who lunged from the sides, his speed and strength fueled by the bitter truth that had been thrown in his face. Grimm’s eternal love bullshit was why Raze had volunteered to hunt him down to begin with. The twisting of love to achieve an even more twisted end stirred violence and fury inside him. He’d watched his fellow Watchers give up their wings for it, and Grimm’s doctrine made a mockery of that terrible, heartrending sacrifice.

“See how he slays the bravest of us?” the idiot prophet asked his minions. “His own people. Weakening us from within. This is who we’ve elected to follow and yet they lead us nowhere! We remain in the shadows, hidden from the world, while-”

“Are you going to shut him up,” Adrian asked, landing gracefully on a bench and swatting away the incoming surge of minions with an impatient swat of his massive wings, “or is that what you needed me for?”

The vampires on the field had staggered to their feet when Adrian appeared and now they scrambled in every direction. It was a natural, instinctive urge to run from an apex predator, but the Sentinel leader himself inspired a unique awe and fear. Like Syre, Adrian had been blessed by the Creator, gifted with a face and form that was the height of angelic perfection. The thirty-foot expanse of his alabaster wings glimmered in the moonlight, the pure pristine white of the feathers framed by crimson tips, as if he’d trailed the edges through freshly spilled blood. That band of red was a vivid reminder of what he was-a weapon tasked with punishing the Fallen and containing their minions.

“He’s mine.” Raze raced down the steps and vaulted onto the field at the same moment a dozen lycans in lupine form hit the grass, converging on the panicked mass. He went after the leader, who surprisingly stood his ground and faced off with a pistol in hand.

“I could change your life, Raze.”

“Gimme your name.”

“Does it matter?”

Raze shrugged and twirled his blade with practiced ease. “Always good to have a name to go with a kill.”

The man smiled. “You won’t kill me. You need me to tell you if there are more of us, and if so, how many more and where they are. And I won’t kill you because I need you, too. If you’d think outside the box, you’d realize that you could be the cornerstone of massive, sweeping advancement. You could have the mate you deserve. You could-”

“You don’t know what I deserve.”

“Don’t make me hurt you, Raze.” He looked over Raze’s shoulder and his smile widened. “You surprised me by bringing in the Sentinels and their dogs, but we had to get rid of them at some point. Now is as good a time as any.”

Using the man’s distraction, Raze whipped out the blade strapped to his left thigh and threw it, striking the prophet in the throat. The gun discharged. Pain ripped through Raze along with the bullet that shot clear through his shoulder and out the other side. The wound healed almost instantly, proving the man’s words to be true: he didn’t want Raze dead or he’d have used a silver-laced bullet.

Behind him, the field erupted with the sounds of gunfire and the yelps of wounded lycans. Raze dropped to the ground. As the robe-clad minions utilized the weapons they’d hidden beneath their robes, his mind quickly assessed his options. Adrian and a female Sentinel took to the field, their wings deflecting bullets and slashing like blades. Screams rent the air. Bodies were severed into pieces.

Most minions never knew what it was like to face a Sentinel. They could never prepare for the lethality of those magnificent wings that sliced like blades and were impervious to all mortal implements of destruction. Unique to each angel, the patterns and colors said much about the angel’s soul if you knew how to read them, and their average thirty-foot span meant it was nearly impossible to get close enough to inflict any damage.

Raze took out a minion with his other knife, then crawled to the body of the prophet and took his gun. Lying on his back, he emptied the clip into the converging mass of robe-clad figures, slowing them down so that he could join the fray with his swords. Leaping to his feet, he did just that, cutting a swathe through the chaos.

Blood spurted and flowed like a river, soaking the grass and splattering Raze until he dripped with it. It was over in moments, leaving a battlefield upon which two Sentinels stood inviolate, surrounded by snarling lycans and a sea of dead bodies.

Raze pointed the tip of his blade at the two minions he’d managed to spare. “For you two,” he murmured, “the fun is just beginning.”

Raze made it back to his hotel just before dawn. He showered again, finishing the job he’d started with a hosing down at the field. Restlessness gnawed at him. The hunt wasn’t over. What troubled him was that he had no idea what it would take to end it. How many more of Grimm’s devotees were out there?

Tugging on a pair of black sweats, he propped up his iPad and placed a call to Vashti.

“Hey,” he greeted her, when her face came on screen.

“Hey yourself.” Her gaze narrowed. “You’re looking rough. What’s up?”

It was hard for a vampire to look rough. He was surprised that she said he did, but he brushed past it and caught her up on the night’s events.

“You killed him?” She leaned back into her sofa cushions. It was rare for her to indulge in any downtime, so rare that it took him a moment to pinpoint her location as her home in Raceport. “Just like that?”

“Just like that. After what they did to the man they left on my porch, he got off easy. I made it quick and painless.”

Her brow rose. “O-kay… But who’s going to give you intel now that the two minions you captured gave up a whole lotta nada?”

“I got his name. Eventually, I’ll have his mate.” His mouth curved without humor. “Baron has to have one, if only to practice what he preaches.”

“Maybe you killed her tonight. Surely she would have been there.”

“She wasn’t on the field. Trust me, if you’d have seen the way they were dressed and lined up, you’d know that everyone was paired except for him. I agree she was probably there somewhere, but she kept out of sight.”

“So how are you going to find Mrs. Baron?”

“I’m emailing you his prints.” Sitting back, he ran a hand over his shaven head. “It’s probably a long shot to hope they registered when they mated, but it won’t hurt to check. I’m also sending you a video. They recorded the killing that brought me here. I found it on a jump drive bracelet Baron was wearing. The recording shows a blond woman doing the deed, but I can’t be sure that’s legit because they sent a doctored version to Adrian that shows me as the killer. That’s what brought him to Chicago.”

Vash whistled. “They set you up.”

“My guess is Adrian was leverage. Baron was under the impression that Syre will do just about anything to stay in Adrian’s good graces, including throwing me under the bus. I think his plan was to offer me a mate and sanctuary from the Sentinels after Syre washed his hands of me.”

“You got all that in the few minutes you let him breathe?”

“He wouldn’t shut up. One of those assholes who likes to listen to himself talk.”

“All right. I’ll have Torque look at the prints and video, see what he can dig up. You gonna hang around Chicago for a while?”

He nodded. The data search was in good hands with Torque, Syre’s son. No one dug up intel better or faster. The rest would be up to Raze. “I’ll wait to hear back from Torque and spend some time on the streets. Maybe they’ll come to me.”

“Watch your back.” Crossing her long legs on the couch, she leaned toward the screen. “And don’t trust Adrian. He’ll throw you under the bus, too.”

Touching a finger to his brow in salute, he acknowledged the warning and signed off.