Chapter Fourteen

The cathedral was packed. The air thick with the stench of too many bodies mixed with the heavy, sweet, cloying scent of incense. The light was dim. Outside darkness had fallen, but inside a thousand candles cast their flickering light, adding to the almost unbearable heat.

It was Christmas Eve, according to Alex one of the biggest festivals of the Church’s year. When some guy called Jesus was born. Jon didn’t give a shit. He just wanted to pick up the priest and get the hell out of there.

On the bench beside him, Rico twitched. The vampire’s jaw was set, and his fists clenched at his sides. Despite the place being full to bursting, the people around them had somehow managed to inch away, leaving a good space around them. Even so, he could see Rico was making them nervous.

“What’s the problem?” he whispered.

Rico turned to face him, lips curled in a sneer. “Nothing,” he snarled. “Why? Do I look like I have a problem?”

“Hell yeah. We’re supposed to be blending with the crowd. You’re scaring the shit out of them. Lay off the dead-guy vibes.”

Rico flashed a fang and growled low in his throat. For a moment, Jon thought the vampire might attack him right here. Then Rico took a deep breath, and the tension eased from him.

“Sorry.” Rico shrugged. “I hate churches. They have a bad effect on me.”

“What’s up with that?” Jon was curious. Rico usually gave the impression of being laid back to the extreme. He was anything but laid back now. Jon hated the Church as well. They had been indirectly responsible for the slaughter of his pack—stirring up the local community into a senseless mob. But he didn’t really blame them—he blamed himself.

Rico settled back on the bench and made a visible effort to relax. “I grew up in a time when the Church was very powerful—even more than now—and even back then they were assholes.” He went silent for a moment. “They murdered my wife, said she was a witch and burned her alive.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was a long time ago. And they all died much worse deaths than Maria.”

“My wife was killed in the attack that turned me.” One more person he’d failed to protect.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was a long time ago. And they all died much worse deaths than Sarah.”

Rico laughed. The sound held no amusement, but at least the air around him no longer vibrated with tension.

“Anyway,” Jon said, “I thought your lot couldn’t enter churches. Aren’t you allergic to holy ground or something?”

“To some extent. But it’s not really the place or the thing—it’s the person in control of it, if they believe. My guess is the guy in charge of this show doesn’t believe shit.”

He raised his hand and held it out. The faint mark of a cross showed on his palm. “That’s from Alex’s cross.”

Jon’s gaze flashed to the vampire’s face. “When did you get anywhere near Alex’s cross?”

Rico grinned. “The day Bastion attacked her. She wasn’t wearing it at the time.”

“Good. Anyway, Alex doesn’t believe in this stuff.” He waved at the church around him. “She might have had to pretend, but she knows it’s a load of crap.”

“Does she? And is it? If that’s the case, this should never have happened. As it is, I’m marked for life.”

“So vampires can be hurt?”

“Yeah we can be hurt, and we can be killed if you know how. Why, you still thinking you’d like to have a go?”

Jon opened his mouth to answer but a commotion at the front of the church stalled him.

“Here they come,” Rico said.

Up at the front of the church a procession wended its way to the central podium. A tall figure dressed in black robes broke away from the mass and climbed the steps to address the congregation.

Jon clenched his teeth as a rush of hatred hit him headlong and every instinct screamed to take the priest down. But wolves who acted rashly on their instincts didn’t live long. A balancing act had to be learned: when to temper the wolf’s strengths with man’s ability to reason logically. Though logic had never really been a strong suit of his…

It had felt so good to shift. He realized he’d missed the sheer exhilaration of his other form. After his pack was killed, he’d turned wolf and stayed in that form until he’d dealt with his grief and guilt. Then he’d shifted back and done what he needed to do to come to terms with what had happened. He’d hunted down those responsible and killed them. But still he’d found no peace. After that, he’d lived among men and avoided changing. And he’d sworn never to have another pack.

“That him?” Rico asked, dragging Jon from the past.

“Yes.”

Rico raised his hand and pointed a finger at the priest. Skylar stood by the door at the back of the church and nodded when she saw the gesture.

“Christos, this guy is boring,” Rico muttered a few minutes later.

“Imagine growing up having to listen to this shit every day.”

Rico grinned. “Yeah, it’s a wonder Alex hasn’t turned out even weirder than she is. This stuff is enough to drive anyone crazy.”

But Alex wasn’t crazy; she was strong. Jon still found it hard to believe she’d killed one of those men. When he’d seen her, she’d looked near dead, and the panic he’d felt when he’d thought he was too late had nearly made him lose control.

They’d come to check out it was actually Hezrai Fischer taking the service. Now, Skylar was to contact him, pretend to be a representative of the Collective, lull him into a sense of security while Jon and Rico worked out how to join them—no way would Jon get past security.

But having achieved their objective, there was no reason to stay and listen to this crap. “Let’s get out of here. We can wait for Skylar outside.” Without waiting for an answer, he got to his feet and headed out, pushing his way past the people in the pew nearest to him. The place was packed. All these people drawn here by the false promise of eternity.

Pathetic.

He breathed in deeply as he came out into the relatively fresh air. The cathedral was at the very center of the planet’s main city, at the intersection of the four major walkways where a fog of speeder fumes hung like mist, swirling in the overhead lights.

Across the way, a young woman stood watching him. Small and slender, she wore a bright pink jumpsuit, knee-length boots, and a laser pistol strapped to her waist. Her blond hair hung down her back.

“Shit,” he muttered, striding across the busy street. “Which part of ‘don’t leave the shuttle’ did you not understand?”

She flipped the blond hair over her shoulder and smiled. The smile didn’t reach her eyes, but still, it was the first smile she’d given him since they’d arrived back on El Cazador, and for a moment his anger wavered, then returned even stronger. “This place is crawling with Church people; any one of them could recognize you and blow this whole thing.”

“They’re hardly going to recognize me like this.”

He opened his mouth to order her back as Rico came up beside him.

“Let her stay,” Rico murmured

A mutinous expression settled on her face, and she swung around to face Rico. “Let? Who are you to ‘let me’ do anything?”

Jon waited to hear the answer.

“The owner of the ship you fly on, sweetheart. So get used to doing what you’re told or find another berth.”

The answer deflated her. “This has more to do with me than any of you.”

“Hey, I said stay didn’t I? It’s your boyfriend you need to argue with.” He turned to Jon. “You know, I think I liked Al better. Al did what he was told, when he was told. Sort this out now. We need to get after Skylar.”

“I need to hear what Hezrai has to say,” Alex said. “And I can be useful. I know him—I’ll be able to tell if he’s lying.”

What she said made sense. The way he was feeling didn’t. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. It made a weird sort of sense—at least he understood what he was thinking and why. If he knew Alex was somewhere safe, he could function better. There would be no need to worry about protecting her; he could get on with the job he was here to do.

He could no longer tell himself that he felt nothing. What he needed to decide was whether he had passed the point where he could walk away.

Alex wasn’t the sort of woman who would be happy to play it safe. In fact, he was finding it hard to understand how she had lived within the confines of the Church for so long without exploding, but she obviously also had an amazing amount of willpower when she took the time to apply it. Unfortunately, she more often acted first and thought about it afterward.

She’d make a crap werewolf. So it was just as well he’d sworn never to change another person. He wouldn’t risk it anyway. Only about half of those attacked survived a werewolf bite. Many died or went insane and had to be destroyed. That’s what had happened to Sarah, his wife. The wolves who attacked them hadn’t intended her to die, but she had reacted badly, and in the end, they’d had to kill her.

His chest tightened at the memory. He never wanted to feel that overwhelming loss for another woman again.

He couldn’t believe he was even thinking about this.

“Come then,” he said. “But keep out of the way.”

Not waiting for her to answer, he whirled around and stalked off down the street, only stopping when he realized he had no clue where he was going. When he turned back, they were both watching him. Rico appeared amused. Alex had a puzzled frown on her face. Yeah, he wasn’t making a lot of sense these days.

“Follow me,” she said.

They headed back toward the cathedral. The service was over, and people were spilling out of the open doorway. A waft of hot air buffeted him as they passed. Alex led them straight past the doorway, around the side, and down a narrow alley that ran between the cathedral and the next building. She appeared to know where she was going, which was hardly surprising; Trakis Four was where the main headquarters of the Church was situated and where Alex had grown up. Finally, she halted in front of a small door set into the wall and pressed her hand to the palm pad. The door slid open revealing a narrow, dimly lit corridor. Alex didn’t hesitate. Jon stared after her then stepped inside, forcing down the unease that roiled in his stomach. The thick scent of incense permeated the air.

They saw no one about, but Jon could hear low voices coming from somewhere up ahead. Soon, the narrow corridor gave way to a wider one. The light was brighter here, the place luxurious with thick carpets muffling their footfalls and religious art on the walls.

“This place gives me the creeps,” Rico muttered from beside him.

Jon agreed. “How are we going to do this?”

“What about good agent, bad agent?”

“Sounds good, as long as I get to be the bad agent.”

“Normally, I’d insist, but he already knows you, so it’s doubtful he’d believe you’re going to be good after he blew up your ship.”

“No. Then again—I’m not sure he’s going to believe you’re good either. You seem a bit on edge.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Alex stopped in front of large silver double doors inlayed with a jeweled cross. She raised her hand to the panel when a sound from behind made Jon whirl around. A door in the wall opposite had opened, and a woman appeared.

He heard Alex’s indrawn breath but didn’t take his attention from the woman. She was dressed in black, similar to the robes Alex had worn, with a black headdress framing her pale features. Her skin was unlined, but she gave the impression of great age and serenity. Though her eyes had widened at the sight of them, she soon gained control of her reactions. She studied their small group, a frown forming on her face. Her gaze passed over Alex at first but returned to her, her brows drawing together.

“Lady Alexia?” Her tone was full of disbelief and joy. “You’re alive. The High Priest reported you were dead.”

“Alex?” Rico murmured. “Is this going to be a problem?”

Alex stepped forward. “No.” She took the woman’s hands in hers and squeezed. “Sister Martha, these are my friends. They’ve been looking after me.”

“But where have you been? And what are you wearing? What have you done with your hair?” She shook her head. “We had no word. The High Priest said you were dead. We started the hunt for a new priestess.”

“I’m not dead.”

“No.” There was a wealth of joy in that one word. She studied Alex then stretched out one hand and touched her lightly on the cheekbone where the faint signs of bruising showed. “But it looks like someone has hurt you.” Her sharp eyes peered from Jon to Rico and back to Jon. He tried not to squirm. “Was it these men? Should I call the guards?”

So there were people who had cared about her. It made him feel good to know Alex hadn’t been entirely without friends. Still, this Sister Martha hardly seemed the cuddly type.

“No,” Alex answered. “I told you, they’re my friends.”

“Alex, we need to move,” Rico said. He cast the older woman a cold glance. “Bring her with us.”

Alex turned to face him. “You won’t hurt her.” It was an order not a question. Rico raised one eyebrow but didn’t answer.

Alex patted the sister on the arm. “Sister Martha, we need to talk to Hezrai. Would you come with us?”

“Yes, my child.”

Jon wanted to tell her that Alex wasn’t a child—she was a woman, but he kept his lips shut. Hopefully, the old woman wasn’t going to be a problem. He had an idea that Alex might get a little belligerent if they tried to finish the sister off. They’d better make sure it didn’t come to that.

Alex dropped her hand and returned to the silver door. She took a deep breath and pressed her palm to the panel. Inside the room, a buzzer sounded and a moment later, the doors glided apart.

…

The meeting with Sister Martha had knocked her off balance. She’d conveniently forgotten how much the old lady had cared for her. When she’d been growing up, Sister Martha had been the closest thing Alex had had to a mother. It hadn’t been Sister Martha’s fault that she’d had no clue how to go about it. That every day of her life, Alex had craved some outward sign she’d cared.

She gave the old lady a long look. Sister Martha seemed as serene as ever and quite unperturbed by the fact that she was flanked by two extremely large, dangerous looking men. One of whom was positively pulsating with darkness.

Alex had always known Rico hated the Church. Now that hatred felt like a tangible thing she could taste on the air. At least Jon appeared slightly more relaxed; she just hoped he’d be able to keep Rico in control if things went bad.

Hezrai sat behind his huge desk in the tall, carved wooden chair that framed him like a throne. Opposite him, Skylar sat. They both appeared relaxed, though a frown formed on Hezrai’s face as he studied the small group in the open doorway.

“Yes, what is it? Can’t you see I’m busy?” His tone was impatient as he nodded toward Skylar.

Alex ignored the questions and stepped into the room, Sister Martha beside her, Rico and Jon at her back. She pressed her palm to the panel and the door shut behind them.

Indignation turned Hezrai’s face purple. “What the…?” He broke off as his gaze settled on Jon, and his eyes widened. Alex could see him fighting to control the panic that glimmered in his pale eyes.

Jon strode across the room, rested his hands on the desk, and leaned toward the priest. “Remember me?”

Hezrai nodded. His gaze darted around the office, finally settling on Skylar as though she could help him.

“I’m in an important meeting. What do you want? I paid you.”

“Yes you did, didn’t you? Paid me to hand Alex over, then you blew up my fucking ship. And you know what”—he leaned a little closer—“that pissed me off.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, like you know nothing about the three mercenaries. You handed Alex over to them and would have allowed them to rape and murder her.”