Bittersweet Magic (3 page)

The convent obviously hadn’t been situated with convenience in mind—probably the opposite—and it had taken three changes of trains, countless delays, and fifteen hours before they finally arrived in London. Standing on the platform at Liverpool Street Station, the time close to midnight, she’d eyed up the bedraggled Sister Maria and decided that they were getting a cab the rest of the way.

She gave the address to the driver and settled back into the seat of the black cab as the city drifted past her. It was good to be back in London. She’d lived in many places over the centuries, always having to move on before the fact that she wasn’t aging started to strike people as odd. But she came back to the city whenever she could.

Between bouts of comforting Maria, who was close to breaking, Roz had been trying to work out what could be going on. Who had Asmodai’s Key and why? And how did this man Piers Lamont fit into the picture?

The trouble was, she had no clue about how the supernatural world worked. Asmodai had told her that her only hope of survival was staying under the radar, keeping to herself, not using her powers—except of course when
he
needed her to. Obviously, then her safety took the backseat. God, she’d been so hopeful this job would be the last and she’d finally be free of the bastard. Now it appeared she might fail, and who knew what he would ask of her instead.

When the cabbie had dropped them off, she’d been reassured by the tall office building, which appeared eminently respectable. She’d tried the door, but the place was locked up for the night. Eventually a security guard had noticed her, come over, and let them in. The nun thing had its uses.

A young man with dark red hair, pale skin, and a perfect smile sat behind the reception desk. It had been obvious that he knew Piers Lamont. His eyebrows had risen as she spoke the name. So here she was.

Someone coughed, bringing her back to the present. She’d been staring at the wooden floor for an age, but she didn’t want to look up. She’d seen some scary things in her time, but these two men sent shivers running through her. Still, she forced her gaze back to them.

The tall dark one was obviously making some attempt at hospitality. But Piers Lamont just appeared amused.

And gorgeous. These days she tended to stick with her vibrator if she needed sex, but she’d had a few hot guys in her time. None of them had come close to this.

Tall, he was dressed in black leather pants that showed off his long, lean body, and a black T-shirt that stretched over his broad chest. A shoulder holster fitted over the shirt, adding to the sense of menace—because, despite the lazy smile that curved his full lips, he was menacing. His dark blond hair was pulled into a ponytail, emphasizing his sharp cheekbones and midnight blue eyes. An entirely inappropriate heat flooded her as she stared at him.

His nostrils flared, and his smile turned predatory. “Just how can I help you?” he purred.

Quickly, she lowered her eyes again. She had to keep in character. So what would a nun do faced with the most gorgeous two guys she’d ever encountered, one of whom had the ability to make the word
sex
flash in big red letters in her obviously sex-starved mind? She was one sad case.

Shit. This was a complication she didn’t need.

Ignore it.

She clasped her hands in front of her, in a nun-like manner, which had the added benefit of stopping them from shaking. Though maybe a little shaking was expected. Or a lot. She risked another peek. The dark man had moved to the side and was leaning against the wall. The blond had perched on the edge of the desk, one long, leather-clad leg swinging. Just behind him lay a sawed-off shot gun. She made her eyes widen in fake shock as her gaze shifted back to his face.

“Sorry,” he said. “Is this making you nervous?” He picked up the gun and tossed it to the red-haired receptionist, who still stood just inside the door. “Take this back to the weapons room.”

Was she supposed to feel better? He still had a pistol at each side and a knife at his waist.

“Thank you,” she murmured.
Yeah, thank you for nothing
. She wished she had a gun, but she hadn’t taken one to the convent. It really hadn’t occurred to her that she’d need one among a bunch of nuns. How wrong could you be?

“Now, do you want to tell us why you’re here?”

“Could Sister Maria have a seat? She’s not too well, and we’ve had a long day.”

“Of course. I’m remiss as a host. Come this way.” He jumped to the floor and strode across the room toward a door at the back. He really had a great ass.

Roz forced her glance away and found the other man watching her, one eyebrow raised. Had he caught her eyeing up his friend’s butt? Well, even nuns were women.

She shook away the notion, put her arm around Sister Maria’s shoulder, and ushered her forward. The sister was at the end of her strength, both mentally and physically. She’d gone almost comatose at the sight of the two men. For the first time, it occurred to Roz to wonder what she was going to do with the nun when this meeting was over.

She’d assumed she would be able to leave her here. Had even considered sticking around herself to try and find out about the Key’s whereabouts. But no way was she staying any longer than absolutely necessary around the Order of the Shadow Accords. She wouldn’t have stepped into the building if she’d known what it housed. Sod bloody Asmodai and his Key.

She followed Piers Lamont into a sitting area; two huge black sofas dominated the room. He gestured to one of them, and she urged Maria over and gently pushed her down. Christian followed them and closed the door before leaning against it. He did that a lot. Laid-back but ready to move.

Sinking onto the sofa beside Maria, Roz smoothed her expression to blankness. She’d had a lot of time to think about what to say, and she’d decided to stick to the truth. Well, all except the minor detail that she wasn’t actually a nun.

“So?” Piers said. He’d taken a seat opposite her, his legs stretched out, booted feet resting on the coffee table in front of him. He appeared relaxed, arms resting along the back of the sofa.

“Mr. Lamont—”

“Call me Piers.”

“
Mr. Lamont
, last night our convent was attacked.”

“Attacked by whom?”

Roz was about to answer, when Maria beat her to it.

“By creatures from Hell.”

Piers raised an eyebrow, opened his mouth, and then closed it again as someone knocked on the door. It opened, and the young man from reception stepped inside carrying a tray. The divine smell of freshly brewed coffee filled her nostrils. Roz had to still her instinctive swoon toward him.

“I thought the sisters could do with some coffee.” A frown flickered across his face. “Do nuns drink coffee?”

“Yes,” she said quickly. If he took it away now she would probably scream.

He frowned at Piers, who grinned but removed his feet from the table so he could put the tray down.

Roz didn’t wait. She sat up and poured two cups of coffee, added cream and plenty of sugar, and handed the first to Maria. Her hands were shaking so much the cup rattled against the saucer. Roz pressed her fingers around the other woman’s, only letting go when she was sure the coffee wouldn’t be wasted.

She picked up her own, took a sip, and almost groaned. When she looked back, Piers was regarding her with amusement. “These creatures from Hell?” he prompted.

“They came last night,” Roz said. “To the convent while the sisters were sleeping. They were some sort of demonic beings.”

“You don’t sound surprised.”

“Well it stands to reason that if God exists, and”—she gestured to her robe—“I obviously believe that, then so does the devil and consequently Hell.”

“Very logical. Go on.”

“They killed them all. All except Sister Maria.”

“And yourself.”

“I wasn’t in my cell.”

“An assignation, perhaps? Meeting the priest behind the altar for a bit of fun?”

She gave him what she hoped was a stern expression. “I was praying.”

“Extra prayers. Did you have some wicked thoughts you shouldn’t have?”

She resisted the urge to throw her empty cup at him. Instead, she refilled it. The coffee had a wonderful, calming effect. She was beginning to relax. Obviously, Asmodai had told the truth—for once—and Piers Lamont couldn’t tell she was anything other than human. And if he’d bought her cover so far, and she was sure he had despite the teasing, then she was probably safe.
Just give him the message, see if I can read anything into his reaction, and get the hell out of here.

“They brought Sister Maria to the church where I was praying.”

“What did they look like?”

She didn’t have to fake the shudder that ran through her. “They were monsters. Half-man, half-beast, with crimson eyes. All except their leader. He looked like a man.”

“Describe him.”

“He was tall, as tall as you. With dark hair and really green eyes—like emeralds.”

Shock flared on the handsome face and was gone. He obviously recognized the description.

“You know him?” Christian asked.

He pursed his lips. “I might. Let’s hear the rest of the story.”

“He sent the beasts down to the catacombs beneath the church. I think they were searching for something, and they found it.”

“Found what?”

“I don’t know,” she lied. “But it was small. One of them handed it to the man. He could hold it in his palm.”

“Then what happened?”

She glanced across to Sister Maria. This was going to be hard for her, but there was no help for it. “He tore Sister Maria’s habit and he cut her back. Said it was a message for Piers Lamont. He threw down a piece of paper with your address, and they all vanished.”

“Just vanished?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, let’s see this message.”

She wasn’t sure how Sister Maria would feel about stripping in front of a couple of strange men. Well, any men really, strange or otherwise.

“Sister Maria, we have to show this man the marks on your back. Then he can catch the ones who killed the sisters. You want them caught, don’t you?”

The blank expression faded and she nodded quickly. Her fingers moved to the long row of buttons that ran down the front of the robe, but they were trembling so hard that she couldn’t unfasten them. Roz brushed her hands away and undid the tiny black buttons. There were hundreds of them, or at least it seemed that way. When they were undone to the waist, she pushed the robe down over Maria’s shoulders, leaving her in the thin shift.

Piers rose to his feet. Maria went rigid in her arms, but didn’t pull away as he came to stand beside her. He hooked his finger in the thin material and ripped it to the waist, then stood gazing down, his expression blank. She was guessing deliberately so. He’d recognized the man, and he recognized the sign; Roz would bet her last cold beer on it.

“What is it?” Christian asked.

“I’m not sure.”

He was lying. Maybe because he didn’t want to talk in front of them; she couldn’t be sure. But she had an ear for these things.

He reached out with one finger and touched the mark, suspicion flaring in his eyes. “You said this was done last night. It’s almost healed.”

Shit
. “I think the man did something to heal the cuts. Afterward.”

“That was nice of him, but a little out of character.”

“Maybe not. He didn’t know I was there. He believed Sister Maria would have to make it on her own.”

“And the two of you didn’t think to go straight to your superiors?”

“He said he would come after us if we didn’t deliver the message.”

“Hmmm.”

Roz wasn’t sure if he was convinced, but it would have to do. Now, to see if she could get something useful out of this meeting. “So, Mr. Lamont, do you know what it was they came for?”

His gaze shifted from Maria’s back to her face, and she was caught in the stare of those wicked blue eyes.

“No.”

Yeah, he was lying. “Do you know who they were?”

“No.”

Definitely lying. But there wasn’t any way she could make him tell her. And she wanted out of here. All she could do was tell Asmodai what had gone down and hope that he wouldn’t be too pissed off. Maybe
he
could get some information from Piers Lamont.

“Do you need a place to stay?” Christian asked from behind her. “You’ll be safe here. We can get a room ready for you.”

Like hell, she was staying here.

“Thank you for your kind offer of hospitality. But our Order’s Mother House is in London. I think we would feel more comfortable there. If it’s all right with you, I’ll ring from reception and get someone to collect us.”

She caught a glance flash between the two men and held her breath. Piers gave the slightest of nods, and she relaxed.

“Okay, I’ll call Graham, and he’ll take you up. And thank you for bringing the message.”

Bowing her head, she peered up from under her lashes. “God led us here. You are meant to find these creatures of Satan and bring them to God’s justice.”

She thought she might have gone too far as amusement flickered across Piers’ expression. “Yeah, we’ll definitely do that.”

Chapter Three

Piers flung himself full-length on the sofa, arms clasped behind his head, as he considered the meeting. Sexy nuns aside, this was actually bad news. Really fucking bad.

“So, did you recognize the sign?” Christian asked.

The question interrupted his less than happy thoughts. “Oh, yeah.”

“And I take it the message meant something?”

“It did.”

“And are you going to share?” Christian’s voice held an edge of impatience.

“No.” Piers didn’t want to talk about this until he’d had a chance to decide what he wanted to say and what he really wanted to keep quiet about. “It’s nothing to do with the Order. It’s personal.”

Christian didn’t appear convinced. “Do you think you should have let the sisters go?”

“Hell, yeah—they didn’t know anything else.” Besides, they wouldn’t be hard to find—the Little Sisters of Mercy. Piers was planning a visit real soon.