AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Don’t worry about Eddie and Adrian,” he told her. “I’m taking care of it.”
Now she sighed. “All right.”
He waited until her lids got low again, and honestly, all he wanted to do, maybe for the rest of his immortal life, was just stand over her like this, guarding her as she caught up on the rest she clearly needed. But nooooooo.
He was going to play tour guide. But shit, maybe if those two angels could see what the Brotherhood and the King did every night, maybe they’d understand why he had to stay here.
“Sleep well,” he whispered.
Lassiter kept the “my love” to himself as he headed back for the exit.
He was careful to shut things up behind himself. Then he looked at Eddie and Adrian.
“Give me your hands,” he said.
Eddie shook his head. “I am not do-si-do’ing with you.”
“I’m in.” Ad popped the last of the Snickers he’d picked up off the floor into his mouth. “Let’s do this—and Eddie, will you just relax. Fuck—sorry, fudge.”
The angel grabbed Lassiter’s palm and then stared at Eddie like there was something wrong with the guy. And wasn’t that the most endearing thing Adrian Vogel had ever done.
“You know exactly what’s at stake here,” Eddie muttered.
But out came his broad palm, and as Lassiter took it, he nodded at Ad to close the circle.
The moment contact was made, up, up, and away they went, the three of them swept into a swirling draft, their corporeal forms reduced to a whiff of smoke that dissipated. Traveling as ether, he led them out of the training center through the ductwork, and when they were off into the night, he piloted them away from the mountain’s base, across the Adirondack Park, and past the farms that ringed the suburban skirt of Caldwell.
When they were finally in the right neighborhood, he reconstituted himself, and in doing so, them as well, all their bodies reappearing in the shadows on the front lawn of a gracious Federal house.
Ad whistled softly. “Nice digs. You thinking of buying it or is this an aspirational thing?”
Leading the way to the door, Lassiter paused and glanced over his shoulder. “And you’re both going to have to remain hidden, too, ’kay?”
Though Ad was sticking right with the program, Eddie was still out on the grass, his boots planted like he was some kind of heavy-duty, hard-ass garden gnome. With his thick braid, and those ready-to-fight clothes, he fit in—but only with the people on the inside.
Some of the people, that was.
“Eddie.” Lassiter motioned for the guy to come on up. “Let’s go.”
After a moment, the angel approached the shallow steps. “You’re bargaining with the wrong people. You don’t need to convince us.”
“I know, I know. You’re just the messengers, doing your job. Well, I’m trying to do mine and I want to show you a part of it. And can you lose that disapproval stew you’re marinating in? You’ll scare the fucking children.” He glanced at Ad. “Or… is it frickin’?”
“He doesn’t swear anymore.” Ad shrugged. “Don’t ask me.”
“Wow. New leaves getting turned all over the place. So how about you work on your attitude, Blackhawk.”
Eddie hit the steps. “I am not responsible for what my face does when you’re talking.”
“You know,” Lassiter muttered, “you and Vishous are soul mates.”
Passing through the door, he waited on the far side, wondering whether either of them—
Thank God, he thought as Eddie and Ad ghosted through.
The Audience House’s foyer wasn’t anything like the Brotherhood mansion’s enormous cavern of marble and mirror and crystal, but it wasn’t dogshit, either. The generous space separated what had once been a dining room capable of sitting twenty-four, easy, and a parlor that was now a waiting room. A formal staircase in the middle accessed the second floor, and hallways on either side led to the library and study to the left, and Fritz’s second home, the kitchen and pantry, to the right.
Leaning into the waiting area, he wanted the angels to look at the civilians cooling their jets before they saw their King: There were three groups sitting on the silk chairs and antique sofas, all of them fidgeting and recrossing legs, the females checking their makeup in compacts, the males on their phones or staring off into space. Two guys were up on their feet and pacing—and assiduously not making eye contact or getting in each other’s way.
The receptionist, a lovely female with an easy smile and a knack for staying calm and organizing things, was not at her post. But there was an empty spot on the coffee table where the Danish were always served at the beginning of the night. Maybe she’d taken the platter back for a refill, although Fritz was not going to approve of that.
“Come on,” Lassiter murmured.
The closed dining room doors were no barrier at all to him—yet as invisible as he was, the instant he was on the far side, Vishous straightened out of his lean against one of the sideboards, the brother’s hand going to one of the black daggers that were holstered, handles down, on his chest. Likewise, Rhage, who was over between the windows that faced out the front of the mansion, stiffened and swept the room back and forth with his Bahamas blue gaze.
