Hollyweird (15 page)

“No one witch would be strong enough to pull that off,” Jameson said.

“Can you text the big guy?” I suggested. “He might give us the missing link.”

“No can do, but I can call my angel buddy Michael,” he said.

“
I can call my angel buddy Michael
,” Des mimicked. “Who says that? You take name-dropping to a whole new level, my friend.”

Jameson smirked and then asked if we'd watch the door while he dialed Michael.

Des stood with her back pressed to one side of the doorframe, still within earshot of the call. I got tingly just thinking of Jameson calling heaven. After he pressed the last number, he put the call on speakerphone and laid the cell on the desk between us.

“Jameson, whassup?” the old angel said, doing a very bad impression of the old Budweiser commercials.

I slammed my hand over my mouth to keep from giggling, but Des doubled over at the door.

“He tries to be hip and embarrasses himself in the process,” Jameson whispered out of the side of his mouth. “Mikey, we finally have a lead on what Dakota's up to, but I need your help figuring out the last puzzle piece.”

“Hit me,” the angel said.

“Dakota is holding some kind of ritual tonight in the abandoned Saint Peter's church. He has a preternatural standing in for every race. We think he's trying to make them invincible somehow, but we don't know how he could do that.”

“Oh, dear. Oh, dear,” the angel muttered, dropping all pretense of being cool. “That would shift the balance of things. You have to stop him.”

Jameson bowed his head. “That's what I'm trying to do, Mikey. I need to know what I'm up against.”

“Of course. Let me think.”

Jameson tugged the ends of his hair in thought as if pulling hard might stimulate an idea. “Where, when, why,” he murmured. “And come to think of it, why did he send Dumb and Dumber off to Vienna when he's got all this going down?”

“Who's Dumb and Dumber?” I asked.

“Cousin henchmen who are demi-demons. Small brains, big brawn, massive loyalty.”

“Vienna?” Michael yelled. “Did you say Vienna?”

“Yeah,” Jameson said. “He sent the goon squad there. Why?”

“Oh dear,” Michael trilled. “I think I know how he's going to make preternaturals invincible.”

“Really?” Jameson asked, his green eyes alight with excitement. “How?”

“Ethan and Andrew can only be after one thing. The Spear of Destiny.”

Jameson

You've got to be kidding me. THE Spear of Destiny?
“I thought
that was just a legend.”

“No, Jameson,” Michael said. “Far from.”

“Are you guys talking about the Hitler lance?” Des asked in awe. She started to scoot away from the door, but I waved her back to her post. We didn't know who might be eavesdropping.

“Who was that?” Michael asked.

“That was Des. I've got you on speaker. Aly's here too,” I told him.

“Ah, a pleasure, ladies,” Michael, the ever-perfect gentleman, said. “I've heard so much about you.”

“Thanks, Michael.” Aly smiled at his gallantry. “Please excuse me, sir, but I've got no idea what any of you are talking about.”

“Allow me, then,” Michael said, and I nearly groaned when he put on his professorial tone. “The Spear of Destiny, which in actuality is just the spearhead now, has also been called the Holy Lance and the Lance of Longinus. When Jesus was crucified, a centurion named Longinus tried to prove to the other soldiers that it was unnecessary to break Jesus' legs to hasten his death. To prove Christ had already died, Longinus pierced Jesus' side with a spear. Blood and water flowed from the wound. Some of it splashed into the soldier's eyes and healed his poor vision.”

“Legend has it,” Des chimed in with unabashed enthusiasm, “that whoever holds the spear controls the world. If they lose the lance, they'll die within minutes.”

“That's right,” Michael said. “People within the same alliance can touch it, but whoever touches it last and then loses it to another order is the one who will perish.”

“Is that what happened to Hitler?” Aly asked skeptically.

“Supposedly,” Des continued. “I read Hitler saw the spear in a museum when he was a kid and became obsessed with it. He got it while he was in power and held it for seven years until the Allied forces invaded and General Patton took the spear. Eighty minutes later, apparently, Hitler offed himself.”

“The spear has been in the hands of world leaders like Herod the Great, Charlemagne, Kaiser Wilhelm III, and more,” Michael said with grave reverence. “The power is real. There are actually four replicas, but only the lance in the Hofburg museum has a crucifix nail pounded into the blade. We've tried to recover the spear ourselves, and we have, several times, only to have it later slip into the wrong hands.”

“How does it slip from heaven?” Des asked.

“Sadly, even angels can be tricked or bribed,” Michael confessed.

“I get the significance of the spear,” I said. “If Dakota has it, he's undefeatable. But how does he share that with the other preternaturals?”

“Blood,” Des answered automatically.

I waited for her to explain further.

“Blood represents strength, bonding. Just as Christ's blood affected the spear. Just as it's given to worshippers in the Eucharist.”

“So they'll drink Dakota's blood, or he'll drink theirs?” I asked. “Is that what the chalice is for?”

Des bit her lip. “It's gotta be something like that. He wants to spread the power out, but not have anyone be more powerful than him.”

“What if each person cuts himself with the spearhead?” Aly asked. “And adds a couple drops of blood to the chalice.”

“That's it!” Michael said over the speakerphone. “Dakota drinks the blood, and—”

“And everyone else holds hands to complete the chain, with Dakota at the starting point,” Aly finished.

“That, combined with some dark magic, and they could spread the power to the entire race and not just the people in the circle,” Des finished in awe. “Preternaturals would be freed from their natural weaknesses. Vampires immune to wooden stakes, werewolves unaffected by silver bullets, djinns resistant to fruit pits.”

“That's not all bad,” Aly said. “People like Shade could live without fear of persecution.”

“Yes, dear,” Michael said kindly. “That's true. Just like in the human race, there are good PNs and bad ones. The real problem with this situation is not just that the bad preternaturals would be invincible, but that anytime anyone, let alone a massive collective with supernatural powers, has too much power it tends to corrupt the group. Look at the mafia, royal families,
Jersey Shore
.”

Des looked at her best friend. “Think about it, Al. If someone could live forever without any repercussions, they might be a little reckless.”

“And crazy reckless,” Aly said, “equals evil army. So how do we stop Dakota?”

“Good question,” I said. “I'd love to have some way to defend myself.”

“You won't be by yourself,” Aly insisted.

“You guys aren't going anywhere near the church,” I argued.

“We're here to help you. And that means all the way to the end,” Aly insisted, hands on her hips.

“There's no need to storm the church,” Michael said calmly. “If it comes to that, it's too late.”

“So what do I do?” I asked.

“Oh, that's easy,” he said. “You just need to get the Spear of Destiny.”

“
Oh, that's easy
,” I parroted.

“Either Dakota has it or his minions do,” Des said. “Those odds are definitely more in our favor.

True. Even if it was three against one, my chances of survival weren't too bad. How hard could it be to take out Ethan and Andrew? They were just lowly demi-demons with rocks for brains.

“We need to find out if the guys have returned from Vienna yet,” I said. “Aly, may I borrow your phone since mine is tied up?”

She handed it over and I dialed the one person I knew would have the answer I needed.

“Francis Ferrari here.”

I smiled at my friend's jovial voice. “Yo, Francis. It's Jameson.”

“Hey, J.”

“When do Ethan and Andrew return from Vienna?”

Francis growled like a bull dog. “I've got to pick those two nincompoops up at eleven. Boss man gave me strict orders to take them straight to the mansion. I'm none too happy 'bout it, neither. I asked for the night off 'cause it's Anna's birthday, but he said I had'ta do this. Then I can go home.”

Thank God
, I thought. That would give me just enough time. I could get the lance and not have to worry about Dakota.

“Listen, that's why I'm calling,” I lied. “You should be with your wife, man. Dakota said I could pick them up for you.”

“Really? Hot damn!”

“Yeah, he felt bad, so he asked me to get the boys.”

“Thanks, Jameson. I owe you one.”

Glad I could make your night; you just made mine.

I gave the girls a thumbs-up and disconnected after getting the flight information from Francis. I felt bad about deceiving him, but if things worked out, he wasn't going to have Dakota for a boss anymore anyhow. I'd just make sure he found a good job somewhere else.

“Okay,” I told Mikey and the girls, “I can intercept the spear before it even gets to Dakota.”

“Don't you mean,
we
can?” Aly asked.

“Nope.” I squatted down in front of where she sat and looked her in the eye. “You're staying out of this. It's too dangerous.”

Aly opened her mouth to argue and I held my hand up to stop her. “Besides, it would look suspicious for me to show up at the airport with all of you.”

“He does have a point there,” Des said, one shoulder against the doorway. “But what exactly are you gonna do? Get 'em into the car, hold 'em at gun point, tie 'em up, and then ransack their luggage?”

I really hadn't thought that far. “I could drug them. That'd be easier.”

“Sounds good,” Des agreed. “What are you gonna do with two unconscious bodies in your car?”

Aly tugged at my hand. “How about this? You pick them up, drug their drinks, drive them somewhere where we can pick you up, and then just leave them in Dakota's limo without the keys? You do all the dirty work. No danger.”

Reluctantly, I realized that made sense. “Okay,” I said with a sigh. “We'll meet at the Sixth Street viaduct.”

“Once you have the spear, Jameson, give me a call so we can transfer it up here,” Michael said.

“You got it, Mikey.” I disconnected the call.

Finally, we had a solid plan. I hated that the girls had to be involved at all, but they were right. I couldn't do it by myself. And they really shouldn't be in any danger just driving the getaway car.

“Um, guys,” Des said, “what're we gonna do about Missy? We'll have a helluva time explaining all this if she comes along.”

Shit. I'd forgotten about her.

“Could we just leave her at the hotel?” Aly asked. “I mean, do you think Dakota's gotten bored dealing out deadly sins?”

“We can't know for sure.” I stood and paced in front of the desk. “Besides, she'll want to know what you're doing, where you're going. We need something to distract her.”

“Perhaps I can be of help,” Shade said, sweeping back into the room with three necklaces swinging from her fingers. “What if I take Missy out on the town?”

“Drinking and dancing?” Aly asked. “She'd love that, but you'd have to keep a close eye on her.”

“That I can do. I'll clock out early and tell her she needs a big girl's night out.”

“Thanks, Shade,” Aly said.

“It seems the least I can do. That, and give you these.” She handed each of us a necklace—a thin oak disc, engraved with a wood-burned pentagram, strung onto a leather cord with two hematite beads. “The oak symbolizes strength, and the pentagram and hematite represent protection.”

“Cool. Thanks,” Des said as she slipped her necklace over her head. “They're beautiful.”

“Truly,” Aly said, rubbing the oil-smoothed pendant.

I added my thanks and then looked at my watch. Time was ticking by like a bomb on a short fuse.

Shade caught my concern and shooed us out the door. “Tell you sister good-bye,” she instructed Aly. “I'll keep her out of trouble.”

Aly enveloped the witch in a hug and I sensed they would develop a friendship under different circumstances.

“Blessed be,” Shade said to her and then to me.

For a moment I just stood there and soaked in her words. We could use all the blessings we could get. The impact of what we were about to do had hit me like an anvil on Wile E. Coyote's head. We were heading out to stop Satan's son and save the world from certain destruction.

Piece of cake.

ALY

Clutching my stomach, I leaned my head against the steering wheel of Dakota's BMW. “I feel sick.”

“I know what you mean,” Des said from the passenger seat. “It's not every day we save the world.”

I turned to face her. “What if we can't?”

She didn't say anything. We just stared at each other. I half expected to die right there, crushed under the gravity of our situation. Death by stress.

“Personally,” Des finally said, “I'd rather be bitten by a vampire than mauled by a were.”

I groaned and banged the back of my head against the headrest.

“Kidding, Al.” Des shoved my shoulder and made me rock against the door. “I gotta make morbid jokes to take my mind off the fact I'm scared shitless. But not peeless.” She crossed her legs. “I really gotta go.”

I wanted to give her a sympathetic smile, but the idea of a world overrun by renegade preternaturals kept running through my mind. The idea terrified me. We had to make sure that didn't happen.

“What time did Jameson say he'd get here?” Desi asked.

“At 11:45.” I glanced at the dash clock. “Should be any time now.” My skin grew hot and prickly and I rubbed my chest where it felt like a ton of bricks sat. Closing my eyes, I drew in deep breaths and concentrated on keeping my pulse down in order to stave off a panic attack. If I flipped out I wouldn't be any help to Jameson, let alone the world.

“Look.” Des pointed. “Someone's coming.”

Lights bounced our way until we saw a black limo pull under the bridge and park parallel to us. Jameson opened the driver's door and stepped out, giving us a thumbs-up. Des and I both gave audible sighs and leapt from the car.

“No problems?” I asked coolly, as if I hadn't been scared to death about his safety. More than anything, I wanted to fling myself in his arms, but I managed to play it chill despite the tremors shaking my insides.

“Took a while for the herbs I put in their Scotch to hit. Shade said it was strong stuff, but they're big dudes.” He opened the trunk of the limo and pulled out two duffel bags. Tossing one to Des, he unzipped the other.

Des rummaged through dirty clothes with a grimace.

“They might have it on them,” I said as I moved toward the limo's back door.

“Hold up, Aly,” Jameson said.

I looked at him questioningly. “You said they were passed out, right?”

“Yeah, but—”

I waved away his worry. I for one wanted to get gone. My nerves were shredded to fine threads. The sooner we found the spear, the better. “Check their bags. I've got this.”

Pressing my forehead to the tinted glass, I peered in to make sure they were still passed out. The guy closest to me sagged against the seat. His bald head glowed blue from the fiber-optic lights and his gaping mouth had a stream of drool dangling from the corner.
Gross.
The second guy had fallen flat on his face, his cheek smushed against the carpet on the floor of the limo.

I climbed in. The slobbery one was wearing a thuggish leather jacket and ripped jeans. I knew, from Googling on my phone, that I was looking for a two-part iron spearhead, banded together in the middle with silver and gold. Searching the outside pockets of the jacket, I only found a Zippo and pack of Marlboros. Thinking there might be an inside pocket, I gingerly lifted the coat away from his body while searching his face. He was wearing black shades, so I couldn't see his eyes. Disconcerted and annoyed—I hate people who wear sunglasses at night—I let go of the leather and reached up to remove his glasses.

I yelped when I saw that his eyes were open and staring straight at me. He looked more stoned than Tommy Chong, but that didn't stop him from yanking the spearhead from the inside pocket I'd just been about to search and taking a sloppy swipe at me with it. Caught off-guard, I didn't dodge his attack fast enough. The point should have slipped between my ribs, but instead it boomeranged back as if deflected by an invisible force field. His reflexes might have been dull, but he didn't waste a second taking another stab. Again, his blow bounced off.

Shade's protective amulet!

While he looked at his hand in blurry-eyed confusion, I scanned the limo for a weapon. Spying a heavy crystal decanter, I picked it up and brought it down over his chrome-dome like a beer bottle in a bar fight. Glass and brandy showered over me and he slumped into my lap, the spearhead dropping to the floor. Panting for air, I gripped his shoulders and shoved his dead weight off me, back against the seat. Pressing two fingers to his neck, I nearly sobbed with relief when I found a pulse. Sweeping the spearhead off the floor, I tumbled out of the limo.

“What happened?” Jameson asked when he noticed the sparkles of crystal clinging to my shirt.

I flapped my shirt to loosen the glass. Too bad the stench of booze wasn't as easily shaken. “He—he wasn't passed out.”

“What?” Jameson grabbed me by the hand and yanked me behind him as he bent into the limo. “Well, he'd dead now.”

“Dead?” I squeaked. “No, no. I checked his pulse and he was fine. I just knocked him out.”

“Well,
you
knocked him out, but the Spear of Destiny killed him.”

I looked at the artifact in my hand and gulped.

“All right!” Des yelled and slapped me a high-five. “Now let's get out of Dodge.”

“Get in the car,” Jameson said, then pressed a swift smooch to my cheek.

Nodding, I happily tossed him the keys. As saving the world went, that had been pretty easy. You've got to love it when a plan comes together and works.

As I buckled my seat belt I suggested Jameson call Michael. “I want to hand this over ASAP,” I said, more than a little nervous that I'd been the one to touch it. I cradled the spearhead in my hand with great reverence. Its age and significance were weighty. The idea that I could now rule the world didn't freak me out as much as what would happen to me if I lost it.

Jameson reached into the back pocket of his jeans for his phone, only to have it ring in his hand.

“Maybe that's him,” Des said from the back seat.

“Uh uh,” Jameson said, his tone grim while AC/DC sang.
“ ‘Problem Child'
is Dakota's ringtone.”

“Just pretend everything's normal,” I said, even as a cold dread washed through me.

“Or don't answer,” Des suggested.

“I better,” Jameson said, then pressed talk. “Dakota, what's up?”

Jameson listened for a moment and his entire demeanor changed. A moment ago he'd been puffed up with victory; now his shoulders slumped and the color in his cheeks bled away. His gaze slid to mine and then shifted away, almost guiltily. A knot twisted and grew in my stomach. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

“Okay,” Jameson said. “We're on our way. Yes, I'll make sure the girls come.”

On our way? Why would Jameson take us to Dakota?

Jameson hung up the phone and turned to face me and Des. Silence strangled the air.

“What happened?” I asked. “Why are we going to Dakota's?”

His stricken eyes met mine. “He's got Missy.”

My body went as numb as if I'd been stung by a thousand bees. I couldn't feel my hands, my feet, or anything in between. My lips moved, but my vocal chords were paralyzed.

Dakota had Missy. Dakota had my sister.

“Aly,” Jameson said softly, “he'll trade her life for the spear.”