Fallen Angel of Mine (44 page)

I laughed and shook his hand. I'd
missed them all more than I realized. "Do you know where my dad
is?"

Stacey nodded. "He's safe. He and
Shelton will meet us here later."

Thank goodness.
Tonight was turning out a lot better than I'd
thought. "How did you know we were here?" I asked. "And if you say,
'It's part of the plan,' I'm going to scream."

"Meghan called us," Ryland said. "Told
us you'd be here tonight."

I turned to Meghan. "And you knew this
how?"

She looked to Michael. He nodded.
"Pokito called us a day ago and told us what you were planning.
Michael came up with a plan to get you out of there."

"But why? And how did he know to
contact you?" Meghan and Ryland were about the only two Templars
besides Elyssa I could trust with my life.

Michael said nothing in reply to my
questions.

"You're responsible for this?" Elyssa
said, looking at her older brother.

"Elyssa!" Stacey said, apparently
seeing her for the first time. She wrapped her arms around Elyssa's
taller form.

Elyssa's eyebrows arched as she
uneasily hugged the blonde bombshell back. "I'm sorry, have we
met?"

Stacey gasped. "Oh bloody hell, they
really did you in, didn't they?" She shook her head
sadly.

"I—" My brainwashed
not-quite-girlfriend shook her head. "I'm not sure what to think
anymore." She considered me with a very analytical look. "Or what
to believe."

"There will be time for the truth,"
Michael said. He went to the van and hauled out the slumbering form
of Vadaemos.

I followed him inside the door Meghan
had exited. One of her ultra-strong diamond-fiber cots was inside.
Michael plopped the demon spawn on the cot and fastened the
unbreakable straps on his legs, waist, and arms. The sight of the
cot caused a nervous flutter in my chest. Not so long ago, Meghan
had strapped me to one of those things so she could save Stacey's
life with my blood. The effort had nearly killed me. At least I
knew Vadaemos wasn't going anywhere.

Michael turned for the door, but didn't
exit. Instead, he shut it and turned on me. I backed up a step,
anticipating some form of violence. Judging from his hefty build, I
was certain he could dish it out. Aside from the glare he fixed me
with, however, he made no other move.

"Let's get something straight, spawn. I
don't trust your kind. I don't particularly like your kind. But
I've got a duty to do, much as it goes against every instinct I
have to punch you in the face for even looking at my
sister."

I held up my hands in mock
surrender. "Whoa there, let's not get all mushy on each other." I
rolled my eyes.
Par for the friggin
course.
"People like you make me sick." I
jabbed a finger his way but stayed well clear of his massive arms
and meaty fists. No sense in walking out of here with two black
eyes. "You don't even know me. And just because I happen to share a
bloodline with this loser, doesn't mean I'm his clone."

"Doesn't matter. I've seen enough to
know you're all bad."

"Is this the part where you tell me to
stay away from your sister or you'll tear off my head and poop down
my neck?"

I'd expected him to at least tense up
or look a little angrier. But aside from the sharp violet glare
from his eyes, he still looked very calm and composed. Which made
him seem all the scarier. In fact, he kind of reminded me of
someone else I'd met. Whoever it was lingered right on the tip of
my brain but didn't quite drop into place.

"Unfortunately, you have to be friends
with my sister."

My eyebrows almost shot through the
roof. "I have to be?"

"Foreseeance four, three, one,
one."

I groaned. "Next thing you know I'll
need prophecy to tell me when I can wipe my butt."

For the briefest second, I could have
sworn the corner of his mouth twitched up.

"Just watch yourself, spawn. If you try
anything with my sister, I won't kill you, but I'll make you wish
you were dead."

That did it. Before I'd turned into
demon boy, I'd been a nerd. A kid who'd enjoyed live-action
roleplaying, had B-cup man boobs, and glasses half an inch thick.
I'd been bullied. A lot. I wasn't about to let the supernatural
equivalent of Nathan Spelman enter my life and push me around,
especially when it came to the girl I loved.

I walked up to him, nose to nose—or
more like nose to chin since he stood a few inches taller—and poked
him in the chest with a grubby finger. "How about this, Michael?
You don't ever tell me what I can or can't do again, and I won't go
Bruce Lee on your oversized ass."

He arched an eyebrow. Turned and left
the room.

I stood there for a few second,
wondering if I'd just won the argument, or ticked him off even
more. The guy didn't react normally, at least not by any pissing
match standards I knew. Meghan entered and almost ran into me. She
gasped, putting a hand to her heart.

"You scared me half to death," she
said, shaking her head and pulling out a wand.

"This isn't even my scary face." I
crossed one eye. "This is."

She laughed. "If anything it makes me
less frightened and more sympathetic." Taking a seat next to
Vadaemos, she ran her wand an inch above his body, back and
forth.

"What are you doing?"

"Checking the level of tranquilizer
toxins in his body." She flicked the wand up and smoky numbers
hovered in the air. "Can you hand me those sleepers from the white
bag with purple flowers on it?"

I located the duffel bag she spoke of
and pulled out a pair of the plastic-looking cuffs. I'd seen
Shelton use them before on vampires, and they worked like a charm,
keeping the prisoner unconscious until removed. I wondered if they
were strong enough to keep someone from breaking them, but figured
it was a moot point, considering the unconscious factor.

Meghan cuffed Vadaemos and his
troubled, shallow breathing morphed into the peace of deep slumber.
Even though he was out, she didn't remove the diamond fiber straps
from his arms. I didn't blame her.

"What's this?" she said, tugging a slim
piece of old parchment paper from the pocket of what remained of
Vadaemos's shredded pants. She unfolded it to reveal what looked
like a map.

"May I?" I said.

"Sure. I don't want it." She handed it
to me.

I unfolded it. It wasn't very large.
There were no labels I could find to indicate what it mapped or
who'd made the map. It occurred to me Vadaemos might have some kind
of fancy magical map he'd been using for plotting his dastardly
deeds, so it merited further study at some point, should the army
of evil ever give me a vacation. For now, I needed some
rest.

I turned for the door. "Are you sure
you're not going to kill Vadaemos the minute I go outside?" Despite
her earlier assurances, it didn't seem likely she could refrain
from doing something awful to him while he slept.

"I promised Michael. Keeping him alive
is for the greater good. For now."

Smith walked in. He smiled at me, but I
could tell something was bugging him from the concern in his
eyes.

"What's been happening since I left?" I
said. "I need to know the truth about my father and where he
is."

"Your father is fine," Smith said, his
smile wavering for a moment before flattening. "Maximus's vampires
overran Shelton's old hideout, but Felicia warned them in advance
and they escaped."

"Is that why you look so
worried?"

"Yeah. I can't stop thinking about
her."

I'd forgotten about Felicia, his
vampire sister. Smith was a very gifted Arcane. His younger sister,
not so much. In fact, she hadn't been graced with magical talents
of any kind. When their parents were murdered, Smith had become
obsessed with finding the truth, while Felicia had gone off the
deep end with drugs, alcohol, and anything else she could lay her
hands on. Then she'd met Maximus. He'd turned her into a vampire—or
someone affiliated with him had, since Maximus wasn't old enough to
have that ability.

Not so long ago, she'd helped kidnap my
father. I'd freed Dad, but run into Felicia again. She'd told me
she wanted to turn over a new leaf. And then she'd run straight
back to Maximus. Except this time, she'd supposedly gone undercover
to spy on him.

"Tell me," I said.

"She couldn't reach you, so she called
me and let me know about her spying on Maximus."

I grimaced. "I told her to give it up
and come back, but she wouldn't."

The wrinkles on his brow deepened. "I
know. She won't listen to me either. Says she has a lot to make up
for."

"That much is true," I said, folding my
arms and leaning against the wall. "But she's still your
sister."

He sat on the edge of a bed. "I love
her and hate her."

I knew that mixed-up feeling all too
well thanks to my mother. I guess we both had abandonment issues.
"Did she have anything interesting to report?"

He nodded. "Max has been a busy beaver.
He's got recruiters all over the country."

I'd heard this before from Underborn.
And according to Franco, the vampiric drug runner, Maximus was
active in other countries as well. This was big. Too big. Maybe
once I turned Vadaemos over to Thomas Borathen, he could set aside
his war on spawn and concentrate on rogue vampires
instead.

I pushed off the wall and put a hand on
his shoulder. "It'll be okay, Smith."

He chuckled. "I'm going by Adam
now."

"Oh?"

Meghan took his hand and flashed a
pretty smile. "I told him I wasn't dating anyone named Mr. Smith.
Makes me think of that talking horse show my dad used to
love."

"I think that's Mr. Ed," Smith—Adam
said.

"You two are?" I looked back and forth.
Smith—darn it—Adam had a smooth tongue when it came to women, even
if he looked a bit gawky and nerdy. Meghan was cute, if a bit
unbalanced and teetering on crazy scary at times due to her hatred
of spawn. But maybe they would make a good couple.

"We are," he said, patting her hand and
grinning from ear to ear.

"Congratulations!" I said. "Welcome to
the family."

"Are we part of your family now?" Adam
asked, laughing.

"Yep. The great menagerie of friends
and family I've made along the rocky road I call life." I peeked
outside through the blinds and saw Bella and the others from
Colombia trailing wearily after Michael as he led them to an
adjacent room. "In fact, I think I added a few more while I was
down south."

"You do have that effect on people,"
Meghan said. "I really wanted to hate you because of your heritage,
but I just couldn't. Not after all you've done for me."

I gave them both a smile and put my
hand on the doorknob. "Take good care of the prisoner," I said.
"Not that I'll complain if he's missing his balls in the
morning."

Adam burst into laughter. Meghan looked
scandalized. I winked and stepped outside, closing the door behind
me. Michael directed Bella and Fausta into a room while a little
further down I saw Pokito and Curtis unlocking a door. The big
Templar approached me and pressed a key into my hand.

"You're at the end."

"How generous." I noticed a scantily
clad woman emerge from a room right next to mine and light a
cigarette. A rugged looking guy with a beer belly and a
tattoo—presumably of his mother—on his cheek came out, pressed some
cash into her hand, and rode away on a Harley. I gave Michael a
disgusted look. "Are you paying for our rooms by the
hour?"

His lip twitched.

"You smiled," I said.

"No I didn't."

"Yes you did."

His eyes narrowed. Then he turned and
walked away.

I glanced about for any sign of Elyssa,
but figured she had to be in the same room with Fausta and Bella.
My heart sank a bit. I'd really wanted to talk to her. She'd
actually kissed me during our little escapade beneath El Dorado.
I'd hoped to use that momentum for my own selfish gain. But now we
were back in civilization, and her brother was around. Oh well. I
turned back toward my room at the lonely end of the row, right next
door to the lady of the night. She had the haggard look of someone
who'd played the game of life and lost at every turn, no doubt due
to subpar decision-making skills.

The decor inside my room was identical
to Meghan's, right down to the old-school, nineteen-inch television
and circa nineteen-forties rotary phone in a shade of green usually
reserved for hospital bathrooms. The cheap laminate furniture
looked like it belonged back in the sixties. The overwhelming odor
of deodorizer barely covered the stench of decades' worth of
cigarette smoke, made worse thanks to my supernatural sense of
smell.

Now I knew how dogs must feel when they
sniff each other's butts.