Authors: L.A. Kelley
Chapter Eleven
Sadhri met them as they exited the helicopter. Instead of metal and leather she wore a conservative business suit and heels. She greeted David with an affectionate hug.
“No battle gear,” he teased. “Don’t tell me you went all touchy-feely on us?”
“Grace insisted,” she snorted. “She said armor might intimidate the wardens. Bunch of pussies.” She grasped Rosalie’s hand in a viselike grip and shook it heartily. “A pleasure. I’m Sadhri Malik, Billy’s aunt.”
“Nice to meet you.” She fought back a grimace at the pressure around her fingers. “You’re a-a hellhound?” Was that rude to ask, she suddenly thought.
Will she smite me, if she’s offended? She looks like the smiting type. What exactly is smiting?
Sadhri took no offence. “I’m a shiva. Billy gets his hellhound powers from his father, but his mother is a shiva and my sister.”
Rosalie’s head spun as the group hustled into the building.
A shiva? What the hell is a shiva?
Nothing like a dryad, she decided. Rosalie held a brief mental image of Billy’s family picnic…
No begging at the table, young man. Make sure you tell Aunt Sadhri her potato salad is scrumptious or she’ll have your head—literally.
They scurried down the corridors, tastefully decorated in a beautiful array of artwork. One painting in particular caught her eye. “An original Georgia O’Keefe?” she gasped.
David shrugged. “Like Dad said, Integrals know how to make money.”
They entered a long hallway. At the other end, Rosalie spotted Billy with several other people in front of a massive mahogany door etched with glowing arcane symbols. Although he lifted a hand in greeting, something about his stance gave Rosalie a sudden chill. The old expression ‘blood in his eye’
ran through her mind.
He strode up to David and Rosalie. “Man, I’m glad see you both, again.”
David raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong?”
Before Billy answered, a herald announced the wardens were ready. David held The Book under one arm and took Rosalie’s hand with the other. She swallowed nervously. David squeezed her hand in reassurance. “Just tell them the truth,” he whispered.
Brian stepped forward. “Entrance requested for the Santa.”
The symbols flared and then the door swung open on silent hinges. Rosalie’s heart fluttered wildly. At first glance, the wardens’ chamber resembled a corporate boardroom except much bigger. Seating for a visitor’s gallery took over one side. Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed to-die-for views of the Manhattan skyline. Built into one corner was a marble-topped wet bar. More valuable artwork decorated the walls.
Brian led the way to a long conference table surrounded by leather chairs. Expensive Berber carpet muffled the sound of their footsteps. As Rosalie sat down she noticed glowing letters moving around the circumference of the room near the ceiling. At first she took them to be an electronic stock report read-out. Then she realized the figures were arcane symbols materializing out of thin air.
Three men and three women sat on one side of the table. Rosalie, Brian, and David faced them while Billy, Grace and Sadhri took seats with the other spectators. The hellhound whispered something to the two women. Grace looked upset, Sadhri looked enraged.
Rosalie tensed. Something had them riled.
She turned her attention to the wardens. No matter Sadhri’s opinion, they didn’t look like a bunch of pussies to Rosalie. She shifted nervously in the chair, and then noticed a familiar face. Stephen Lundberg nodded a welcome.
Although the anxious knot in her stomach loosened, she felt way underdressed. All the wardens wore business attire and not cheap second-hand knockoffs either. Penrose’s had a designer department and Rosalie recognized quality. The severe-looking thirtyish man directly across from her sported an expensive Italian suit and not last year’s style. It easily cost him a cool eight hundred.
While the other wardens hosted impassive expressions, Mr. Dressed to Kill openly glowered at Brian. The Santa sat impassively. “Good evening, Dominic,” he said, and then to Rosalie’s amusement added in a low voice, “Nice suit.”
So, he was the Baal—looks like somebody over-starched his boxers.
As if reading her thoughts, Dominic turned his scowl on Rosalie. “Meetings of the wardens are not open to humans.” Rosalie flushed.
David rushed immediately to her defense. “Rosalie is here to give testimony.”
“No one asked you.”
Before a shouting match erupted, Stephen intervened. “I requested her presence in order to clear up the false accusations surrounding the Santa and David. I presume no one has any objections. As to Grace Kloss, I see no reason why she shouldn’t remain as the accusations concern her family. Or do we need to discuss this…” His voice tightened with exasperation. “…again.”
A woman from the other end of the table spoke up. “The Hera wishes to hear what the girl has to say.” Others murmured assents. Finally, Dominic nodded stiffly.
“Very well then,” said Stephen. “David, please begin.”
The E.L.F. told his story. Rosalie explained her involvement in Florida and how she came to find The Book. Shocked mutterings came from the wardens when she described Anthony’s attack. David opened The Book and requested the demon’s page. The Book intoned the damning words of Anthony Pearce’s guilt.
Rosalie watched Dominic out of the corner of one eye. His face remained impassive.
No surprise to you, huh?
“There is no doubt,” Stephen announced. “Anthony Pearce solely perpetrated the theft of The Book. Therefore, I move to drop all c {to fy"harges from the Santa and his son David Kloss. Are there any objections?” He looked pointedly at the Baal, but Dominic stayed mute. “Let the record be amended to note all charges dropped.” Scattered cries of approval issued from the spectators.
“Next is the serious matter of the theft,” continued the Odin. “The repository is supposed to be shielded from all Integral powers. Will the Baal explain how a demon under your command bypassed your own security measures?”
David laid The Book out flat. Before the Baal answered he called out, “Dominic Schiller.” The demon’s face remained impassive as the pages riffled to a stop. The words Naughty List appeared at the top. “Did the Baal authorize the theft of The Book?”
“No.” The Baal eyed David in triumph. “However,” continued The Book as Dominic’s exultant look faded. “Although a breach in protocol, he allowed Anthony Pearce access to the security measures guarding the repository. He allowed Anthony Pearce to deactivate the controls and use his powers within the room. When Anthony Pearce informed him of the theft, he allowed blame to fall on others.”
“You knew he stole The Book!” shouted David. A shocked rumble came from the gallery.
The Baal’s face hardened. “Yes.”
“Not only that, you must have built the shield to hide The Book from me. Anthony didn’t have the skill. You’re the only one who could.” The Baal clamped his lips shut as the spectators’ excited murmur grew louder.
At least have the guts to admit the truth,
thought Rosalie. She’d only known Dominic Schiller for a few minutes, but experienced a very unladylike thrill watching him squirm.
“Is the accusation true?” Stephen interrupted.
The Baal’s fingers clenched. “Anthony told me he stole The Book and had a place in Florida to hide. He asked me if I knew any way to adapt a shield to The Book. I warned him the modification wasn’t perfect and he had to keep The Book in one spot or the spell would deactivate. Anthony was only supposed to keep The Book out of sight a short while longer.”
“You mean until the connection permanently severed?” Brian charged.
The Baal’s demeanor stayed unshaken. “Once the shields lifted, I was certain you’d sense The Book again.”
“You couldn’t be certain. Dominic, you have no idea of the chaos you could have unleashed.” He appealed to him. “Why did you do it?”
“My reasons are my own.”
The Baal clamped his lips shut, but the Book cried out. “Dominic Schiller was concerned about the growing support for the Santa. He remarked to Anthony Pierce that only something as devastating as the loss of The Book would tarnish the Santa’s reputation enough to insure the vote in his favor. After Anthony informed him he stole The Book, Dominic Schiller remained silent so the Santa and his family would shoulder all the blame. With the Santa and his son in prison, the proposal to use The Book for social change would be defeated.”
Hushed murmurs once again issued from the crowd. The more the wardens sat around in an ever-so calm and polite discussion, the more Rosalie stewed. Damn it to hell, she fumed. David and his father were thrown in prison. She was hunted and attacked. Wasn’t anyone else pissed?
“You knew they were innocent and did nothing,” she snapped with an icy glare at the demon. “You really suck.” The room grew dramatically quiet.
A flush spread up the Baal’s neck. He growled at David through gritted teeth. “Tell th {h. ramatice human her comments on Integral business are neither solicited nor required.”
“I am not the human,” she snapped back. “My name is Rosalie Thatcher and I was nearly killed by someone who apparently works for you. I think that makes this whole situation very much my business.”
David stifled a grin. “You’re lucky she didn’t bring pepper spray.”
Rosalie was on a roll. “By the way,” she demanded. “Where is Anthony? How come his keister isn’t parked in jail right now? Or is punishing the real guilty party not part of your Integral business?”
“I don’t answer to you.”
“You do answer to the wardens,” Stephen broke in. “Were the hellhounds dispatched for Anthony?”
Billy rose from his seat. “Excuse the breach of protocol, wardens. I am Billy Secord, of Liang Sung’s pack.” His jaw tightened. “Pearce shot Pack Leader Sung during the pursuit. I am requesting an amendment of the charge to read the demon is now also wanted for the murder of a hellhound.”
The uproar from the gallery took several seconds to quell. All the wardens looked shaken. “What happened?” the Odin demanded.
“Our pack was with Pearce when he intercepted Ms. Thatcher. Liang became suspicious of his motives and the reason for pursuit of the girl. We attempted to return him to New York, but…” The hellhound had difficulty with the words. “He disappeared.”
Stephen startled. “Invisibility poses no problem for a pack.”
“Sir, I mean he disappeared, vanished without a scent trail.” The shock of the spectators before was nothing compared to the stunned disbelief evidenced now. “Liang heard a footstep,” Billy spit out angrily. “She followed and he ambushed her. We scoured the area, but found no sign of him.”
“How is that possible?” gasped the Odin.
“I wish I knew. Never before in our history has a scent vanished. To the knowledge of the pack, a complete disappearance is impossible. We always have a scent. Nothing escapes a hellhound and yet, no trace remains of Pearce. My pack and I returned with Liang’s body to report. Pack Leader Jason Nguyen remains in South Carolina with his team attempting to pick up the demon’s trail. As yet, they’ve been unsuccessful.”
David leaned over the table at the Baal and half-rose from his seat. “Pearce is shielded.”
For the first time, Dominic Schiller’s iron composure cracked. “Impossible. He can’t. The shield isn’t supposed to work that way.”
“Yet, he’s gone,” spoke the shaken Hera.
David’s suspicions rose. “We may have bigger problems.” He addressed The Book. “Did Anthony Pearce kill Pack Leader Liang Sung?” The pages shuffled again, but this time the blurry words didn’t focus. They stayed a madly unreadable jumble. David wore a grim expression. “The Book can’t read him anymore. Pearce not only shielded his scent from the hellhounds, he shielded all his actions from The Book.”
“I didn’t know.” Dominic’s voice cut through the angry shouts from the spectator gallery. “It wasn’t my intention—”
Everyone spoke at once. The Odin held up his hand. “Silence!” he roared. “We obviously have much to discuss. I request the Santa and David remain behind with the wardens. Everyone else will leave the conference room immediately.”
David leaned over and whispered in Rosalie’s ear, “Go with Mom. I’ll meet you as soon as I can.”
Grace waited for her outside the room with Billy and Sadhri at her side. As the last spectator exited, the massive doors swung shut on silent hinges. Billy came up to Rosalie. “I didn’t get a chance to say thanks for coming to David’s rescue. You have a lot of guts to confront a demon.”
She flushed. “Not really. I didn’t know he was a demon at the time. I only thought he was a prick.” Without thinking, she gave him a quick hug. “I’m really sorry about your pack leader.”
“Anthony Pearce will pay,” he said, visibly touched by her concern. “I promise you that.”
Rosalie eyed the massive door. “What went on in there? Everyone suddenly got spooked.”
Billy scowled. “For good reason. You don’t understand, Rosalie. A hellhound follows a quarry through anything. Shit, even if you hunker down in a submarine at the bottom of the ocean we’ll eventually find you, but this…” He shook his head in disbelief. “The whole security system depends on The Book keeping you honest and the hellhounds chasing you down and throwing your ass in prison if you’re not.”
“Now, we have the murder of an Integral,” said Sadhri with a sharp look at the door. “The most binding rule among us is to spill no blood. Liang’s death terrifies everyone. Me included. The last thing we need is the start of another war with Integrals choosing sides.”
Rosalie shuddered. If the iron façade of a shiva cracked, the situation was really bad.
“You don’t have a clue where he is?” Grace asked Billy.
“Not one. The trail ended completely at his last location.”
Sadhri snorted. “Dominic had a hand.”
“I don’t think so,” countered Grace. “I saw his expression. The shock was genuine when he heard about Liang’s death. Wherever Pearce is hiding, the Baal has no idea.” She invited Billy and Sadhri back to the apartment, but they both declined. Sadhri admitted she was just plain nosy and wanted to hang around and hear what the wardens decided. Billy said he needed to return to the kennel. Liang’s body was in final preparation for internment. His stoic expression couldn’t hide the pain in his eyes, betraying his true feelings to Rosalie.