Chapter 9
“Why is there nothing in the PIT data base about the guardians?” Ren asked curiously as he rocked his computer chair back and forth before turning it around to face his best friend who was once again sprawled out on the sofa. “I’ve even checked the Vatican records and there’s no mention of them.”
Storm shook his head, “I’ve never allowed it to be entered into any system… especially the Vatican secret vaults.”
“Why?” Ren hated sounding like a child but when you knew almost everything, it was the little things you didn’t know that annoyed the hell out of you.
Storm lazily turned his head to look at Ren, “Answer me this. If you were a very powerful demon and wanted to know the world’s secrets… were would be the first place you’d look for that kind of information?”
“The Vatican hidden vaults,” Ren repeated in a bored voice. He leaned his chair back so he could stare up at the ceiling wishing he knew the secrets about the five men that lived on the third floor of the castle. “So it’s not written down anywhere? What about the Illuminati?”
“No,” Storm lied knowing some secrets were meant to be kept. “No one has any written records of them.”
Ren dropped the subject and was enjoying the few moments of peace when suddenly the silence vanished and he could hear almost everyone’s thoughts inside the castle. Slowly leaning back in his chair, he glared up at the ceiling knowing the guardian named Kyou must have left the castle and his succubus range.
Without being able to leech Kyou’s ability to block out nearly every paranormal power he chose, Ren knew he would eventually lose his mind with all the surges of power descending on him. He grabbed his sunglasses and decided it was time to get the hell out of here and see if he could pick a fight or two. The demon map of the city wasn’t getting any prettier.
“Where are you going?” Storm asked appearing right behind him.
“Christmas shopping, so stay away… it’s no fun if you know ahead of time.” Ren used Storm's teleportation power instead of the planned motorcycle since he was standing right there.
“It’s Halloween you nit wit,” Storm smirked and took Ren’s vacated seat behind the desk. “I think it’s time to stir that witch’s brew.”
***** Ren came out of the teleport near the center of town, sighing thankfully when it was only his own thoughts he heard. He felt sorry for the poor member of PIT that had to put up with that noisy racket… then yet, it may have been a combination of several powers that had allowed him to hear it without even trying.
He could still feel power throbbing inside him but then again, there was probably nowhere in LA that he could simply enjoy being human for a while. That little fact made him restless.
If Storm didn’t need him here so bad, he would take a long vacation on Storm’s private island where uninvited power was simply that… uninvited. Since he was stuck here, his only real choice was to help wipe out the demons that had invaded… then and only then would he be able to find anything close to peace again.
Spreading out his senses, Ren tapped into the location of a cluster of power and smiled. It had been a while since he’d exterminated a vampire’s nest. Maybe killing about ten birds with one stone would lighten his mood. If that didn’t work, he’d find something else to rip apart until it did.
***** Gypsy Winslow drew the blinds down in front of the store and made sure the door was still locked. She couldn’t believe she’d fallen asleep after her bubble bath and slept the day away. She could barely contain her excitement as she winked at the neon blue ‘Closed’ sign. As far as she knew… no one was aware she was back in town yet and she wanted it kept that way.
Stepping back behind the counter, she gently unwrapped the larger of the two packages she’d brought home with her from New York. She’d managed to acquire the antique portrait, bought from a private museum whose owner had recently passed on. Antique was an understatement as the carbon dating had told its true age. It was exactly one thousand years old… to the year.
Because of the job her grandfather had her doing over the last two years, she was the youngest person known in the upper class of the underground black market. With her connections, she could acquire everything from weapons for use against the supernatural… to things that the supernatural loved to buy.
Her grandfather had never let her help him run the store, saying that was the easy part. Instead, he’d made her the center of his supply and demand network around the world. She smiled sadly knowing he’d done that for a reason. He’d made sure that she was accepted into the underground society by all of his secret friends so that when he died, she could continue to supply LA with the unattainable and run his store at the same time.
Her grandfather had been described by the underground trade as the person who supplied Batman with all his nifty gadgets, and now he’d left that legacy to her.
Since she’d been introduced to that part of the business, she’d come across some items that even the most well-known buyers could never obtain. Most of them she kept on her own private market for buyers… but the more unusual, she kept for herself and this portrait was going to be one of those items.
The portrait was almost as tall as she was so Gypsy had to lean it against the wall in order to fully appreciate the artwork.
It was stunning. She knelt down to get a closer look at something that had caught her attention. The artist’s name was painted on the portrait to blend in with the background and was now barely legible. She reached out just shy of tracing the letters of the scrawled name… Hyakuhei.
Gypsy figured he must have been a complete wacko or a total genius in his technique. That and it was said he authored the legend that was written in Sumerian text on the back of the portrait. She’d found it to be as elegant as the signature on the front… too bad she couldn’t read Sumerian.
The young woman was painted in such detail that Gypsy wondered if she wouldn’t walk right out of the painting and into real life. The long auburn hair of the young woman shone like silk in the moonlight and the emerald hue of her eyes glistened. Alabaster skin seemed to glow from more than the moon depicted above. She was almost celestial in appearance. The impression was only enhanced by the flowing white dress she was wearing and the magical aura surrounding her.
Gypsy’s gaze followed the outstretched arm of the woman, to the tips of her fingers, to what she was reaching out toward. A statue that was the girl’s mirror image in every detail sat kneeling with its hands outstretched and cupped… as if asking her for something. The image was burned into her brain and Gypsy couldn’t help but wonder if something like this had once existed.
They stood in the center of a clearing littered with the rubble of what must have once been a magnificent castle. Large white stone blocks dotted the small landscape along with flowering vines that flourished in the abandoned garden. Among the vines was where the artist had signed the painting.
Gypsy didn’t understand why she’d bought the painting when it wasn’t the reason she’d gone to the museum. It had caught her attention as soon as she’d walked into the museum and noticed it leaning against the wall behind the auctioneer’s podium. She couldn’t bear to leave without it. Something deep in her heart had been called to it and it silently urged her to bring it back to Los Angeles.
Not one to second guess her gut instinct, she’d stayed till the very end of the auction almost panicking when the man kept skipping it and reaching for other things. As it turned out… the painting had been last on the list.
She left the painting in the back and started looking around the shop for a place to put it. Every place she searched just didn’t feel right and would be hidden from view at certain locations in the shop. For some reason, she had the urge to put where everyone would see it.
Finally, her gaze went to an area of empty wall above the small checkout counter and Gypsy smiled… that’s where she wanted it.
Setting up the steel ladder behind the counter, she climbed up and quickly screwed a couple hooks into the wall. Going back for the painting, she carefully lifted it and maneuvered it around until the strong wire along the back of the frame locked onto the hooks so it would hang securely.
Hopping off the ladder, she moved around the counter to stand in front of the door to see what the customer would see if they’d just entered the store. Gypsy smiled brightly. This was where the painting wanted to belong… she could feel it.
She’d always been drawn to the strange and supernatural. The same went for her grandfather. Everyone else in their family thought they were nuts… which was why she didn’t have much contact with them. Well, everyone except her cousin Lacey who could be considered even stranger then she was.
While her grandfather was alive, he’d come across some major finds that were thought to belong only to legends but the artifacts proved otherwise. Now ask if he shared that knowledge with the rest of the world… not a chance in hell.
Gypsy quickly put the ladder back in the storage room and came back to the counter where the other item waited.
This was the real reason she’d gone to the private museum. As far as the rest of the world was concerned, it was an underground auction. But the truth was that a wide variety of artifacts had been obtained over the course of fifty years by her grandfather’s best friend. The ‘auction’ had actually been the reading of that female friend’s will.
The woman had been a notorious jewel thief in her prime but sadly, she had been struck down by unfortunate circumstances that the executor of the will refused to disclose.
Gypsy had been surprised when she’d received the letter summoning her to the reading but didn’t ask questions. The item had been willed to her grandfather, and being his soul heir… the one item the old lady left for him was to automatically be passed to her.
She laid her hand over the unopened package and could still feel the slight hum in the air surrounding it. The only supernatural ability she had was from the things she surrounded herself with… charms, potions, and such. Being human, she shouldn’t have been able to feel anything unusual… but she did. That hum was all the proof she needed to let her know this was the real thing.
With a wide smile on her face, Gypsy opened the box and slid out the sealed glass case. Tossing the cardboard aside, she laid the weapon on the counter to admire it. The handle had strange markings that reminded her of runic tribal art and its color was a swirling metallic blue bordering on white… but it was the blade itself that drew her attention. She leaned closer truly fascinated.
Within the gleaming metal was the image of wings but she didn’t understand how the image had gotten there. It hadn’t been carved, etched, or imprinted into the metal… if anything it was more of a reflection… as if the angel still stood in front of it.
The old woman had hired scientists to carbon date it. The results had proven it was over fifty-thousand years old. Inside the glass it looked brand new and surreal… not a speck of dust in the confines of the casing.
It was called Gabriel’s Blade… a very powerful weapon that was rumored to have been wielded by the hand of the angel himself.
The weapon had come with a thick folder containing all of the research gathered by its previous owner. After spending the flight home pouring over the paperwork, Gypsy knew it was mostly the mythology that surrounded the blade. She’d found writings on Gabriel’s Blade being forged by Merlin, carried by Alexander the Great, stolen by the Romans, and hidden away from Adolf Hitler in a monastery during World War II.
The truth was… no one had anything concrete on the blade. To Gypsy, it didn’t really matter what the weapon represented… she’d gotten it and she was never going to get rid of it.
“Now, what am I going to do with you?” she asked then tapped her lips with her finger as she gazed around the store. “I don’t think Grandpa would want you on display, someone might think you were for sale.” She sighed. It was a shame to hide such strange perfection. “I’ll think of something. For now, I guess he would want you safe in the vault.”
She walked over to the heavy duty glass display cabinet and unlocked the rollers on the bottom of it. Moving it over several feet, she uncovered the vault that had been built into the top of the bomb shelter below… a small vault for things like seeds. It took a special key, but her grandfather had refused to update it, claiming the store didn’t need upgrades.
He had told her the true protection was the symbol that was painted in the attic and on the floor of the bomb shelter below her.
The symbol covered about a quarter of the store, including her bedroom that was directly below in the bomb shelter. She’d made sure her bed was nestled inside that protection grid. Just call her paranoid, but lately it made her feel a whole lot safer when she lay down at night. Her grandfather said once that the barrier was like a bubble evil couldn’t penetrate.
While she wasn’t sure about that, it was nice to know it was there in case she needed it. All things of importance were kept inside the circle whether they were spell books, potions, or weapons that were under the guise of collector items. The rest of the store was mostly novelty items that drew in everyone from the Goth crowd to the Wicca wanna-be.
She had no real proof that the symbol worked except for the fact that nothing had ever been stolen from within the grid, while the rest of the store seemed to be open season for shoplifters. She didn’t have any proof for lot of things she believed in, but that had never stopped her from having faith.
Going back to retrieve the glass box and her vault key, Gypsy opened the vault and placed Gabriel’s Blade beside her grandfather’s other prized possessions. She took one last look at the weapon, ghosting her fingers over the surface of the glass before pulling her hand out of the vault.
Once she had the cabinets set back in place, she went to the back room of the store to check the supplies she’d ordered for Nick Santos. After doing a quick inventory, she saw that only half of them had arrived. The printed invoice stated that the rest of his order would be delivered the following day.
She bit her bottom lip wondering if she dare call him to pick up half an order. Every time he’d been here, the store had been full of customers. She listened to the silence and smiled. She’d been working so much since taking over the store. Seeing Nick for a few minutes every other day when he came to pick up his orders had become the highlight of her job.
God she needed a life. Maybe it was time to take Nick up on his offer to visit Moon Dance.
Feeling excitement at the prospect, Gypsy slipped the phone from her pocket and dialed his cell number. She paused for a moment before she hit the talk button realizing she’d dialed his number directly from memory. With another shrug, she hit talk and waited for Nick to pick up.
Nick checked his cell phone to see who was calling and smiled at the caller ID. Well at least the ‘overnighter’ hadn't made her forget about him. He cocked an eyebrow knowing the store was still closed. He’d been ordering so much stuff from The Witch’s Brew lately that maybe Gypsy was finally catching on to the fact it was mostly a ploy.
“Nick here,” he answered walking away from the speakers that he was in the middle of testing. Normally Warren liked to be the one to test the new speakers as they came in. But his big brother had showed up a little while ago in dark sunglasses, which was the same thing as writing the word HANGOVER across his forehead.
“Wow, sounds like you’ve got a party going on. I thought Moon Dance was still closed for renovations,” Gypsy said curiously. “Or is it a private party?”
Nick raised a dark eyebrow at the purr in her voice and started walking faster. “Nah, just testing the new surround sound. Do you have something for me?” he asked, already pulling the keys out of his pocket as he stepped outside the club.
Gypsy blew her bangs out of her eyes wishing it wasn’t all about business but at the moment she’d take what she could get. It was getting harder though… considering some of the more explicit dreams she’d been having about him lately. Just a little while ago she’d had another dream that he had starred in. This one had been of him breaking into the shop and trapping her down in the bomb shelter… she fanned herself just thinking about it.
“You know I do,” Gypsy said, shamelessly flirting with him. “Wanna come and get it?”
Nick felt himself strain against his jeans and wondered if she had the slightest clue what she had just done to him… probably not.
“On my way,” he paused then flirted back, “and it better be ready.”
Nick snapped the phone closed. Climbing into his Jaguar, he sat there for a moment and took a few deep breaths trying to get the mental images of Gypsy meeting him at the back door wearing nothing but her long beaded necklace and a smile out of his head.
“I flirt too much,” he grumbled and started the car.
***** Samuel stood alone in the courtyard of an abandoned prison that bordered the city and forest. He had felt a lot of demon activity here and knew it was a good place to perform the ritual he was planning.
In light of his humiliation at the hands of Aurora’s lover, he knew his only chance rested on finding a Fallen Blade in order to prove to her that he was indeed her master. Aurora had thrown the insult at him, thinking he could not obtain such an enigma but that’s where she was wrong.
She had hauntingly proclaimed she would willingly be with a man who held a Fallen Blade… and he would hold her to her word. Once he got his hands on the weapon… she would no longer be able to beat him in a fight for her freedom.
His thoughts darkened as he envisioned making her watch as he killed her lover with that same blade. Only then would she understand and accept that no other existed for her… only he got that privilege.
However, the only way to separate a Fallen from his blade was to get him to draw it during a fight… then kill him while the blade was still outside of his body. This had only been accomplished a couple times in all of history, but those Fallen blades were indestructible and would still be around.
He required a lot of demon blood to complete the Blood Rain ritual. It was the only way to locate a Fallen Blade without challenging an actual Fallen for it. Samuel hid his evil smirk. Now all he had to do was find a demon master and a few expendable followers to sacrifice.
It had been a long, never ending battle with Aurora. He knew she desired him and he’d spent centuries teaching her what he could do to her body. But that wasn’t enough to keep her enslaved to him. Looking around him at the high walls of the abandoned prison, Samuel smiled confidently and sent a wave of power washing across the complex.
The familiar song of demonic growling echoed from the dark doorways of the prison and Samuel tilted his head to the side. Yes, there it was… the unmistakable stench of weakness that craved power.
A demon emerged from the alcove to his left and he felt the air vibrate with power as if answering his own in warning. Samuel sent another wave of power throughout the group making it only slightly stronger than the leader of this rabble.
“There is only room for one master here,” the master said in a gravelly voice and several more demons stepped into the courtyard. Even more demons came forward and spread out much like personal guards would in order to protect their king.
“Then one of us will have to go,” Samuel said softly and withdrew his Demon Blade. “Unfortunately for you… that will not be me.”
The demon master narrowed his black eyes on the Demon Blade. There was only one type of demon lucky enough to be born with a blade… those that were sired by royalty when the first wave of Fallen had swept through the land. Royalty was rare among the Fallen… as it was the same among the demons.
“An elder… why would you waste your time with such a weak army?” the demon master asked suspiciously. Out of the corner of his vision, he noticed a couple of demons slip back into the shadows… cowards.
Samuel smirked but said nothing… further infuriating the master.
“What is it you want?” the leader demanded again.
Samuel raised his hand up and flicked his fingers toward himself. The leader’s body suddenly lurched forward, dragged by an unseen force toward Samuel. When they were face to face, Samuel inhaled deeply and his smirk widened.
“I do not need your pathetic army… I only want the blood you have to offer,” Samuel said just before he plunged his fist through the leader’s chest.
The leader released a loud screech and writhed in agony as Samuel lifted his arm without removing his hand from the other’s chest. He squeezed the master’s heart that was still beating in his fist and whispered the needed incantation. Samuel’s head tilted back and he inhaled the smell of fresh spilled blood.
Large gashes began to appear on the bodies of the master’s underlings and he relished their screams. Blood flowed from the wounds, spraying forth like geysers as though it were being forced out of each body.
He watched as the blood rose above him and he flung the dead carcass of the leader aside. Spreading his arms wide, he let the mist fall around him like a soft summer drizzle… the Blood Rain.
Samuel stared into the red mist and thundered, “Lead me to the closest Fallen Blade!”
