Dark Strike, page 4
Damn them. They had no idea how wrong they were. Ignorant. I was glad Father Thomas wasn’t like them.
Tyrius let out a growl. “Buddy, I hate coming here just as much as you hate me being here,” spat the cat, and I reached up and scratched his head for comfort.
Father Peter’s expression twisted in revulsion, his eyes on Father Thomas. “The church would never permit you to engage with the hypocrites and the sinners. You’re putting the church in danger by allowing demons in.”
Anger hit me like a red wave. I really didn’t like that priest. “If I wanted to let demons in, trust me, I could have easily conjured a few in here. Your church isn’t as strongly protected as you might think.”
Okay. Not the right thing to say, but he was asking for it.
Father Thomas gave me an exasperated look before turning his attention back to the priest. “I think Father Martin would want us to do whatever it took to find his killers. Don’t you think? If that means hiring extra hands to do it, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
Ah-ha. Father Thomas the rebel. I had the feeling he hadn’t asked the church for permission to involve us, or rather, involve Tyrius. Naughty, naughty. I liked him even more.
“Looks to me like Father Thomas is the odd one out,” said Tyrius.
“Looks that way.” Yup, he sure looked like the church’s black sheep.
I bit down a laugh as Layla bent over to adjust her boots, knocking into one of the priests with her round butt. She was having way too much fun.
“Layla, stop scaring the priests,” I teased.
She straightened and pushed up her bustier with both hands. “I think they’re afraid of my breasts. But it might be my vagina.”
Father Peter glowered at me, all sour and dour. “I think I’ll have words with Cardinal Vannelli,” he told Father Thomas. “You’ll be looking for a new parish when this is over.”
Father Thomas’s face darkened but he said nothing as the other priest stormed past him and out the door. After a moment, all the other priests upped and left with Layla blowing kisses after them.
I walked over and stood next to Father Thomas. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know the welcome committee would be so unwelcoming.”
Father Thomas drew in a slow breath. “This is not your fault, Rowyn. I asked you to come.”
“But you didn’t check with the church first. And now they’re pissed at you.” The last thing I wanted was for the priest to lose his position because of me. This was not how you paid back a priest for bailing you out of tight situations over the years.
“I found something,” he answered, totally not answering. He flipped open the notepad he’d been holding the entire time. “Here.” He pointed his finger on the page. “It says—”
“Temple,” I read, seeing it written in bold letters in the margin and circled a few times.
Layla appeared at the priest’s side, practically leaning on him. “What else does it say?”
“I’ve been reading his notes,” informed Father Thomas. “He was investigating the necromancers. I don’t know how he figured it out. There are six of these notepads. I haven’t had time to go through all of them yet. Not with all that’s been going on here. I had to make arrangements to have his body transported to the morgue.” He stared at the ground, his dark eyes pensive and sad.
Tyrius leaned forward on my shoulder. “Don’t worry, Padre. We’ve got you.”
Father Thomas fell quiet and then moved toward the desk where five more of the similar notepads were spread out. “He was definitely working on something. I don’t think any of the other priests knew. Some of the records here date back a few months.”
I followed the priest to the desk with Layla right next to me. “He must have found something important enough to have these necromancers want to kill him.” Enough for a necromancer to come to the church, kill the priest, and take his soul.
Father Thomas nodded. “Yes. I believe that’s true.”
“Yeah, but what?” asked Tyrius and then he leaped off my shoulder and landed on the desk.
Layla opened one of the notepads, her fingers flipping through the pages. “Maybe it’s written in the rest of the notes.”
“I think it has something to do with this.” Father Thomas showed me the notepad again.
Two words were circled on the page. “The Passage?” I read out loud. “What do you think it means?”
The priest pressed his lips tightly together. “I’m not sure. Some ritual, perhaps? If he had confided in me,” said the priest. “I could have helped him. Maybe this,” he raised his arms, gesturing around the room, “might never have happened.”
“Don’t do that to yourself,” I told him, speaking from experience. “It’ll just make you feel worse, and it won’t bring him back. He chose not to tell you. He had his reasons. Maybe because he knew it would put your life in danger. Obviously, he was close to discovering something about the necromancers. I don’t think just knowing about them was enough to get himself killed. He was onto them.”
Tyrius sniffed one of the notepads and then looked up at me. “About what? What can a priest do to a bloody necromancer? Exorcise him?”
Good question. “I don’t know yet. But with some time, I can figure it out.” I looked at Father Thomas. “Do any of the other priests know anything? Because if they do, their life might be in danger.”
The priest shook his head. “No. I don’t think Father Martin shared his investigation with anyone else. I asked the priests, and they seemed just as shocked as I was at these findings.”
Layla pulled herself up on the desk and sat with her legs swinging. “Unless they lied to ya.”
Father Thomas cut her a glance but said nothing. He clenched his jaw, his thoughts racing behind his dark eyes. Interesting. Looked like some tension was brewing among the Knights of Heaven. If I were to guess, it looked like they didn’t trust Father Thomas. Maybe to the point they’d keep valuable information from him.
I wasn’t stupid enough to think that if I asked Father Peter, he would willingly give me some intel on whatever Father Martin was working on. If he knew something and didn’t tell Father Thomas, no amount of begging would get me those answers.
“Maybe he confronted the necromancers with something,” commented Tyrius as he began to sniff the next notepad. “A dirty necromancer secret got him killed.”
“Possibly.” I picked up one of the notepads and flipped through it. Every line was jammed with the priest’s handwriting. I had to read the first sentence three times before it made any sense. It would take days to go through it all.
I placed the notepad back on the desk. “Well, it won’t do any good to speculate who knows what and who told whom without any real evidence or a motive.” I met the priest’s gaze. “So, this temple. Any ideas where it is?”
“Yes.” Father Thomas flipped the pages of the notepad in his hand. After a moment he pointed to the middle of a page. “In Fairview. He speaks of a building on the outskirts of the cemetery.”
“That’s got to be it. We should check it out.” My insides jumped in excitement. Good. We were getting somewhere.
Layla jumped off the desk and landed with her arms straight in the air above her head like a gymnast. “I knew this was going to be an awesome day.”
“I’ll keep reading these,” said the priest, his shoulders tightening with added tension. “They should keep me busy for at least a day or two.”
“Let me know if you find anything,” I said, feeling the thrill of the hunt stirring in me. “What do you want me to do if we find a necromancer?” I knew what I’d prefer to do, but this was the church’s—or rather, Father Thomas’s—business, and since he was paying me for Hunting the necromancer down, he was the boss.
The priest’s expression was locked into something just shy of a grimace, and his dark eyes burned with pent-up aggression. He looked like he wanted a fight and would gladly jump on the first opportunity to get into one as his eyes moved to the rack of weapons on the wall.
He said nothing for a long time. “Bring him here.”
I gave a nod, not bothering to mention that the necromancer could also be female. Some of the nastiest villains I’d faced in my lifetime were females. “You’ve got it,” I said, feeling marginally better now that we had somewhere to go. The idea of smacking around a few necromancers made me all giddy inside.
I rubbed my hands together and smiled at Tyrius and Layla. “Looks like we’re going to crash a temple.”
CHAPTER 5
Fairview was the next town adjacent to Thornville. Though I’d been there before, I didn’t know it well enough to ignore my loyal GPS. With the three of us in my Subaru, and Tyrius riding shotgun on Layla’s lap, by the time we arrived at the local cemetery, it was half-past seven at night. The dark skies blanketed the surrounding cemetery in long, moving shadows, adding another level of creepiness to the eerie cemetery.
I slowed down when I hit Old Wellington Drive and drove past the cemetery until the headstones ended where a line of tall trees emerged. The graveyard backed up to a dense forest of vast oaks and ancient pines. Through the trees was a clearing, and in the middle sat a single building.
“That’s got to be it,” said Layla, having spotted the building. She shivered and looked over at me, beaming. “I’ve been dying to try out Danto’s new gift.” She tapped the whip at her waist and giggled. Interesting gift.
Tyrius coughed out a laugh. “I’ve gotta see this.”
I parked my subbie at the curb, and we all clambered out.
The building didn’t look like a temple or a church. It had a flat roof and no windows from what I could see. It looked like a giant, rectangular cement block with nothing spectacular or indicative that a group of Death magic practitioners congregated there. If I didn’t know where to look, I would have driven right past it.
Knee-high grasses and weeds swayed in a breeze. An old, overgrown and crumbling brick walkway led from the street to the temple, and it didn’t make me feel any better.
“That’s a necromancer temple?” asked Tyrius incredulously as he came around and stood next to me. “Where’s all the death memorabilia and heads on spikes? Looks more like a prison.”
“It kinda does.” Come to think of it, it did look like a prison. I could even make out a chain-link fence surrounding the building. We might have to cut our way in.
I moved to the back of my Subaru, popped the trunk, and grabbed a rusty set of bolt cutters.
The cat snorted. “You look like you’ve broken out of prison before. Care to share?”
“Gareth gave me these,” I said, and the thought of the elf brought a smile on my face. “Thought I could use some tools. You know, just in case.” I grabbed a large black duffel bag stuffed with some more of Gareth’s old tools and showed the cat.
“A girl can never be too prepared.” I dropped the bag as I shut the trunk and locked the car.
After I checked my weapons belt, I turned to face Tyrius and Layla. “Do we need a plan before we go in there, or do we just wing it?”
Tyrius shrugged. “My mind went black at the mention of wings… big, fat, juicy, barbecue chicken wings. Why are we here again?”
“I was thinking,” I started again. “Before we go in there, we have to have some sort of plan. We can’t just go in and take them over with our killer looks.” I wondered if Layla’s tight clothes might work in our favor if they were indeed all male. But then again, so were the priests, and they had all looked mildly embarrassed at the sexuality that oozed from her.
Layla planted her feet, her hands on her hips. “We do what we always do. We go in. We kill. We get out. Easy peasy.”
I grinned. I was so proud of her. “Usually, I would have to agree with you.”
“But these turds are humans,” commented Tyrius. “You can’t just go in there and blast them to pieces.”
“Why not?” laughed Layla. “I’m really, really good at it.”
I gave her a weak smile. “Well, for one, Father Thomas needs to question them. So, we need to bring one back—preferably the one who killed the priest—still in one piece and alive. I don’t want a necromancer bleeding out in my car. And Tyrius is right. We’re not allowed to kill humans without a legitimate reason.”
Layla gave me a pout. “Even if they’re really, really bad?”
“Yes.”
Her pout deepened. “But we have proof that necromancers killed the priest. You said so yourself. The yellow eyes?”
“Yes, I did. And you’re right. But we don’t know how many are in there or if they’re all involved.”
Tyrius hissed. “I bet they are. Necromancers are tight, from what I remember. You hurt one of them, and they all come after you like a plague.”
“Maybe. But we need to be smart. No killing—”
“But some hurting, right?” asked Layla, and she made a show of pulling out her new whip.
“Yeah, I guess a tiny bit of hurting should be fine.”
Layla let out a squeak, an ecstatic and entirely creepy expression of joy lighting her face and a strange, almost homicidal gleam in her eye. Oh, boy.
“Onward!” Tyrius jumped up and stood with his right leg pointing and his tail out straight behind him like a pointer dog.
I tried not to laugh as I followed the Siamese cat down the path. He seemed more interested in leaving his scent every few feet than getting us to the building.
We hit the fence, and the gate was unlocked. So I yanked the gate door open and tossed the cutters to the ground. I’d pick them up on our way out. We slipped through the gate and continued on the path.
When we were about twenty feet from the building, I felt it.
A rush of energy swept through and around us, cold and foul and thick. My insides twisted with sudden nausea, causing my skin to riddle in goosebumps. Dark, dangerous magic churned, drawing my attention to the temple’s facade. This was the same cold energy I’d felt next to the dead priest—a kind of magic that destroys, rots, and corrupts.
“You feel that?” asked Layla. Her back stiffened in trepidation, and from the worry etched on her face, I knew she was thinking of Lucian and what he’d done to her.
“Yeah.” I didn’t stop walking and kept an even pace as I made it to the front of the building. Or was it the side? It was just a wall of cement. Weird.
I walked over to the left side of the building. It was the same. No windows. No doors.
“Maybe this is the back of the temple?” offered the cat.
“Let’s go around the other way.” I marched through the tall grasses until I hit the end of the building, which was maybe a hundred feet and turned. The rest of the temple was an even cement wall.
“What the hell is this?” I growled. Frustrated, I ran the length of the back of the building and then jogged the entire right side, seeing no windows, no doors, and no point of entry. Nothing. It was as though someone had poured a giant concrete box.
“How are we supposed to get in if there’s no door?” Layla had lost some of her sass and her expression was tight.
“There’s got to be a way in. If the necromancers can get in, so can we.” I pressed my hand on the cement wall and then wished I hadn’t.
I hissed in pain and yanked it back.
“You okay?” Layla grabbed my hand and examined it. “It’s not burned. You’re not burned.”
I pulled my hand away. “I’m fine. It was like… like the wall bit me.” Now I’d never imagined speaking those words. This was a strange night.
“It’s a glamour,” informed the cat, and I noticed he was keeping his distance. “A powerful one. I can’t even see through it. I think only the necromancers can.”
“Great.” I rubbed my hand on my jeans, feeling as though I should wipe off whatever had bitten me.
Tyrius looked up at me. “Maybe we should call Gareth.”
“You think he could help?”
The cat tipped his head. “His magic is different. It’s worth a shot.”
He was right. I pulled out my phone and called the elf. “He’s not answering.” I slipped my phone back in my pocket. “We’ll have to figure out how to get in without him.”
Tyrius put a paw on my leg and gave me a level look. “Rowyn. I don’t know how else we can get in without some sort of magic. Maybe we should call it a night and try again tomorrow.”
“No.” We’d come all this way, and I wasn’t ready to give up when Father Thomas needed my help. “There’s got to be a way—”
“Someone’s coming,” hissed Tyrius, the fur on his back standing up and his blue eyes flashing with blue demonic energy.
Layla and I both dropped to the ground. Crouching, I whipped my head around toward where Tyrius was staring, my heart thrashing in my chest. Through the tall grasses, I saw a figure marching up the same walkway we’d just used.
I pointed to the bushes behind us. “There. Hide!”
The three of us crouched-ran to the nearest brush. Well, just me and Layla, which is a lot harder than it looks when you’re not used to running on all fours. Using the thick brush as a cover, I raised my head. The figure hadn’t broken its pace. Male, from the sheer size of the shoulders, he wore a heavy black cloak and cowl that hid any possible details of appearance—how original—with a swirly symbol etched on the front that was impossible to decipher in the folds of the cloth.
“You think he saw us?” asked Tyrius, lying next to me with his fur tickling my cheek.
“We’ll soon find out.” But I didn’t think so. He wasn’t looking in our direction.
“Let’s get him,” said Layla, the smile returning to her face and her eyes wide with excitement.
“Are you crazy, woman?” hissed Tyrius. “That’s a necromancer right there.”
Layla raised a skeptical brow. “Rowyn and I can take care of a little human.”
“A little human who can do Death magic? You have no idea what he’s capable of. You want to take that chance?”
“Yes.” Layla glowered at the cat, looking like she’d want nothing else but to use her whip on him. Great. This was just what I needed.
