Fall to Grace Page 4

  Stepping outside the room, Adriana slammed the bathroom door shut, locking it. She then dropped the gun to the floor.

  Looking at her hand, Adriana saw the imprint of the gun’s handle burnt into it. She flexed her fingers. She couldn’t use blood magic to accelerate the healing of a blessed wound; healing would take time, time she didn’t have. She looked to the front door.

  The Knights knew her. They wouldn’t leave just one guard to watch her.

  Surveying the rest of the room, Adriana saw a sliding glass door that led to a balcony.

  As she stepped outside, Adriana saw Sydney at night from the vantage of sixty stories up. She went to the balcony and looked down over the edge. A series of identical balconies stretched down for another five levels. Beneath that, the balconies alternated to another side, making it impossible to find a hand hold of any kind.

  Beneath that was the street.

  Adriana climbed over the railing and dropped down, angling close to the building. She intended to grab the railing of the balcony below. Her hands made contact — but slipped on the wet balcony rail. She tumbled down, barely grabbing the next railing in time.

  The vampire remained in place for a moment. She then pulled herself up on the balcony. It was identical from the one she had left. Looking in through the glass doors, she saw a darkened apartment. The balcony doors were unlocked. Who worry about a burglar coming in this way? Adriana reasoned. She slipped inside.

  The apartment’s layout appeared the same as her prison room, save with less fancy furniture and appliances. Adriana made her way across the shadowy room.

  And then she heard a crash as glass shattered on the hardwood floor.

  Adriana turned to see a man in his boxers standing across in the entrance to the kitchen. His belly drooped over the top of his boxers. The hand that once held the glass remained in front of him, grasping thin air. She couldn’t tell if the look on his face was one of surprise or horror.

  “I have no quarrel with you,” Adriana said. “Go back to bed and forget this.”

  The man stood stock still. It was as if he didn’t even register Adriana’s words.

  Adriana crossed the room and exited the apartment.

  Traversing the hallway proved no issue. Adriana took the stairs up the two flights back to the prison room. She could have used the elevator, but elevators had security cameras. Her vampire magic would make her appear as a mere blur on the footage, but she didn’t want to chance some overzealous security guard locking the place down.

  Once back on the desired floor, Adriana used her powers to draw the shadows around her, adding to her stealth. She carefully made her way back to the prison room, watchful for any guards possibly positioned there.

  She found two of them just around a corner. The one closest to her was older, balding. The other was young, thin, more athletic. He’d be the problem. Before the guards even knew she was there, Adriana sucker punched the older guard. As he stumbled to the ground, the vampire launched an attack against the younger guard, striking him but not hurting him. Much.

  She should have hit the older guard harder. He got back to his feet as his younger companion lashed out at Adriana. He hit her in the stomach. She didn’t need to breathe, so she lost no breath. The impervious nature of her body took care of the rest. The attack did little more than annoy her.

  The guards would need their blessed handguns to overpower her. Adriana hoped they wouldn’t figure that out.

  Adriana refocused on the older guard. He parried her blow and landed another ineffectual one of his own. She upped the stakes by snatching the older guard’s gun out of its holster. She moved to the younger guard and pressed the gun’s muzzle into the man’s stomach.

  “Holy bullets will kill the righteous too,” she said.

  The older guard played it smart and stopped his advance.

  Having captured both men’s attention, Adriana said, “I was brought here with another woman. Where is she?”

  The guards were distracted by the smell of burning flesh as the holy weapon seared Adriana’s hand. Now it was a waiting game between Adriana’s pain threshold and their sense of self-preservation.

  “We were told to watch the door, that’s it,” the younger guard said.

  Adriana put the gun under the younger guard’s chin. “You obviously know my reputation as a killer,” she said. It was partially a bluff; due to her memory loss, even she didn’t know her reputation. “Where is my companion?”

  Squirming, the guard held at gunpoint said, “We don’t know! But you can check the security tapes!” Adriana further prodded him with the gun. Steam from her burning flesh wafted into the guard’s face. He recoiled at the smell.

  “Where?” she asked.

  “First floor! Just past the elevators!”

  Adriana nodded. She stepped away from the younger guard, moving around both men while covering them with the gun. Smoke billowed from her palm. “Go into the room.”

  “We can’t,” the older guard said. “Praetor Shealey magically sealed it.” This last he said as a challenge to Adriana, daring her to make the next move.

  Adriana titled her head to one side. She then quickly pistol-whipped both guards, knocking them unconscious. When they were down, she snatched the shoe from one of the guards. She dropped the gun in the shoe and carried it with her toward the elevator. She’d get over the pain in her hand on her way to the first floor.

  Once there, Adriana located the security room and knocked on the door. From the shuffling she heard inside, it sounded as if she’d caught the security team inside off guard. She surmised that, thankfully, the half-naked man had failed to report her.

  When the door opened, Adriana slammed her fist into the face of the short man in the security officer uniform as soon as he appeared. He fell backward, crashing to the floor unconscious.

  Another man sat in front of a bank of computer monitors. Most of the monitors displayed images from various parts of the building. The two closest to the seated guard displayed movies. A half-eaten donut fell from the guard’s hand and to the floor as he stared in surprise at Adriana.

  “Find the footage that shows me entering the building,” she demanded.

  “Just don’t hit me!” he whined.

  Adriana put a hand on either of the arms of the man’s chair. She leaned into him, her steel gray eyes boring into the man’s soul.

  If he could have fallen through the chair’s back, he would have.

  “Then do as I ask,” Adriana said.

  The vampire held the man’s gaze for a moment and then stepped away. The guard turned back to the monitors and began typing on the keyboard in front of them. “Check monitor two,” he said.

  Adriana looked at the appropriately labeled monitor.

  It displayed a wide shot of the building’s lobby. In a moment, the monitor flickered. An exterior shot of the building replaced the lobby. Adriana saw the four battered Knights of Vyntari and the man Makeda called Shealey ushering her and Makeda into the building. Adriana remembered that Gabriella had remained in the car, wanting out of Shealey’s presence.

  Adriana noticed the guard staring curiously at the screen. Her figure in the video was blurred. No doubt the man was curious about it, but the vampire had neither the time nor the inclination to explain. Instead, she pointed to Shealey and Makeda. “Track these two,” she demanded.

  The guard shook himself out of his confusion, then used his sleeve to wipe away sweat from his forehead. He continued typing furiously on the keyboard, looking from one monitor to another.

  And then the landline phone rang.

  The guard nearly jumped out of his skin. After catching his breath, he looked to Adriana for permission to answer. She nodded, rubbing her burnt hands all the while. He picked up the phone and listened. He handed the handset to Adriana. She looked at it as if it were infected.

  “It’s for you,” the guard explained, trying to hand her the phone again.

  “Put it on speaker,” A
driana said.

  The guard punched the speaker button on the phone and returned the handset to its cradle.

  “You just can’t stay out of trouble, can you?” came Freeman’s voice from the phone.

  “It depends on your definition of trouble, Shealey,” Makeda said in a snarky tone she was sure would offend the man.

  Shealey gnashed his teeth as he glared at Makeda. He’d taken her to one of the building’s upper floors. It was unfinished, left open in preparation for the construction of several more apartments. It had plenty of open space with a beautiful view of the city.

  It was perfect for a tribunal.

  Makeda sat in a high-backed chair, out of place in the otherwise unfurnished space. Her back was to the naked elevator shaft fifty feet away and in the middle of the wall-less floor. Shealey stood a few feet away from her, pacing so vigorously she was sure he’d leave a trench on the floor.

  He wasn’t what concerned her.

  Further toward the back of the space, somewhat obscured by the lack of lighting, were three human shapes. They looked, for lack of a better word, like ghosts. Makeda knew they were magical projections.

  To her left floated the image of the man she knew as Thomas “Tommy” Negri. With a sharp three-piece suit wrapped around an average-sized frame, slicked back hair, and dark, penetrating eyes, Negri looked like an extra from a Scorsese mob movie. Having met him many times before, she knew he encouraged the impression.

  In the center floated the image of Emily Downing.

  From her meetings with Downing, Makeda knew the woman acted as if she were half her fifty some-odd years of age. She too was dressed impeccably, with a too-young-for-age pixie cut she nonetheless managed to pull off with aplomb. Downing was also in as good if not better shape than Gabriella, and mirrored the younger woman’s air of goodness.

  The last image was that of Seth Cameron.

  Whereas Negri was a street hood masquerading as a well-dressed man, Cameron was the man Negri strove to be. The tallest of the three (with Downing the shortest), Cameron wore his fifty-plus years like a fine Scotch: with elegance and warmth. The only real signs of his age were his balding head and the gray hair of his full beard and mustache.

  These were the three members of the Knights of Vyntari ruling body, the Concilium. That Makeda now faced them implied, as Freeman would say, that she was in deep shit.

  Shealey abruptly turned to face the members of the Concilium, waving an accusatory hand at Makeda behind him. “This is exactly what I mean!” he insisted. “Arsi’s flippant attitude toward matters of dire consequence —”

  Downing’s image waved Shealey’s tantrum to silence. “Acknowledging that Praetor Shealey does have a flare for hyperbole,” she began, “you do have quite a bit to explain, Makeda.” Her tone was maternal but firm, compounded by the elegance of her British accent.

  “And you allowed Shealey to threaten one of our own to get that explanation?” Makeda asked, fighting to hold back the anger she felt for Shealey’s actions against Gabriella.

  Both Cameron and Downing’s images looked questioningly at Shealey. Word of what he had done at St. Mary’s must not have reached them. Being the bastard he was, Shealey had neither shame nor regret. Negri stepped in.

  “Praetor Shealey’s actions are not in question here,” Negri said.

  “Perhaps they should be,” Downing added, giving Shealey a sideways glare. She turned her focus back to Makeda. “But let’s stay on topic, shall we?”

  “Let’s!” Negri cut in. “In the past few months, Arsi has stolen a Vyntari shard. With that shard, she manipulated Berlin’s entire Shadowdance community, resulting in a schism that destroyed their ‘Shadow Peace.’ She also got a pack of Berlin werewolves murdered by an Order of Haroth sorcerer. And if that wasn’t enough, Arsi has lost not one but three Vyntari shards — three! — to our mortal enemies in the Order. And for what, Arsi? Some…blood bag’s redemption?”

  Makeda felt the weight of three sets of eyes upon her.

  She dared not look at them.

  “How did you find us?” Adriana asked.

  “When Makeda said she was meeting Gabriella, I got suspicious,” Freeman said. “I did a quick search of Knight properties in the area, figuring if Gabby brought you in or, more likely, the Knights used her to bring you in, they’d have to take you somewhere. The World Tower, of which they own several floors, is a somewhere.”

  “Can you help me find Makeda?”

  “Sure! I took the liberty of hacking into the Tower’s network, but there are a few pesky passwords that block me from getting into the security systems. If that lovely guard with you would be so kind, it’d save us some time.”

  A look from Adriana and the guard told Freeman everything he needed to know.

  Moments later, Freeman had remote access to the system. He pulled up the records for the elevator Makeda and Adriana had entered. It had stopped once on the floor the Knights had imprisoned Adriana on. Then, it continued up, stopping at a floor listed as under construction.

  “Best bet is they took Makeda there,” Freeman said. “I’d check camera footage to confirm, but the cameras installed there aren’t linked to this network.”

  “I will chance it,” Adriana said.

  As she headed for the door, Freeman warned, “You don’t know what’s up there, Adriana!”

  The vampire stopped, looked back toward the phone. “Makeda has risked much for me. Freeing her is the least I can do.”

  “Well, know this too: Makeda is probably in front of the Concilium. They’re deciding right now if they should sanction her.”

  “And what would that entail?” Adriana asked.

  “At best? A slap on the wrist, which would probably take her out of the field. At worst? Excommunication.”

  “Which would mean?”

  “Um… we’re kinda in mixed company,” Freeman said, reminding Adriana of the Uninitiated guard’s presence. “But let’s just say all that special stuff Makeda can do? They’d strip her of those abilities.”

  Adriana’s eyes narrowed.

  Freeman added, “As you’re the cause of all this misery, showing your face might make things worse.”

  Adriana considered this. “If I am the cause of Makeda’s predicament, my words may be what saves her.”

  Looking to the guard, she added, “And you will remain silent about all of this, or I will return and hit you. Hard.”

  The guard cringed in his chair.

  Adriana left the room.

  Over the speakerphone, Freeman said, “Since we have the time, you a Marvel or DC man?”

  The guard stared at the phone.

  Makeda sat heavily in her chair, remaining silent for several uncomfortable minutes. She knew it might make her appear guilty, as if she was searching for some excuse, but she needed the time to devise a strategy.

  She knew Cameron. He was one of the few people who had firsthand knowledge of Adriana Dupré and had lived to tell the tale. She’d discussed elements of her plan with him back in August of last year. Cameron had also provided transportation when needed, particularly during Makeda, Adriana and her fellow Knights’ escape from Berlin after their ruinous confrontation with that pack of werewolves Negri mentioned.

  Cameron had acted of his own volition, trusting Makeda to keep his involvement and her plan secret. If the others became aware of his participation, it would put him in a worse position with the Concilium than Makeda.

  Besides her Qaallu in Oromia and Chigmy at Mount Kanchenjunga, no one had shaped Makeda more as a Knight of Vyntari. Cameron trusted her; she would not betray that trust. That also meant she couldn’t play on his sympathies.

  Downing was a wild card. She was a bon vivant known for her patronage of the arts, but that merely covered up her devotion to the cause. She believed the Knights should do as much good as possible for the largest amount of people. If you did right by the One Goddess, Downing loved you. Cross the One Goddess or her teachings, and Downing would be
the first to condemn you.

  Negri came from the same extremist camp as Shealey: defeat evil by any means necessary. Makeda had seemingly let evil win. This fact put her and Negri at odds.

  Her only play was to coax Downing to her side, so Cameron could then agree with her. Then both members could overrule anything Negri said.

  “I heard Malachi Thorne resurfaced and was killed,” Makeda said, finally looking at the Concilium’s images.

  Makeda’s statement left the group silent. They must have figured that she’d been out of the loop.

  Shealey was the first to cut through the silence. “I told you we should have brought in her discipulus as well! It’s the only way she could know such highly sensitive information.”

  “Please,” Downing said. “The leader of the Order returns and is murdered. As much as they would try, the Order could never contain something like that. Makeda is nothing if not resourceful, as her escapades in Berlin and Oromia can attest.”

  “And how many people did she jeopardize with her misguided crusade?” Negri added.

  Makeda jumped in. “Yes, Berlin is a mess, and the shards are missing, but Thorne would never show his face for anything less. And now we’ve removed a major player from the Shadowdance.”

  “We didn’t kill Thorne,” Cameron clarified in his Scottish brogue, finally choosing to be a part of the conversation.

  “But he’s gone nonetheless,” Makeda said. Looking to Negri, she said, “I suppose you’re just upset you don’t get to claim his head.”

  Before Negri could reply, Downing interjected, “Stoking animosity isn’t the right approach, Makeda.”

  The chastised Knight looked away from the group. “We can find the shards,” she said in a respectful tone.

  “And how exactly are you doing that?” Negri asked. “By playing hooky with a legendary killer blood bag?”

  Makeda noticed Shealey turn away from the group, his head bowed as if listening to something. She guessed he’d performed a ritual like the Oromian Ibada ya Mawasiliano Kuimarishwa, allowing him telepathic communication with his discipuli. What could be so important that they’d interrupt him here?