Rounding the back of the ballpark, Raze climbed the rear of the bleachers and looked down at the darkened field. A lone man stood before a group of approximately two hundred robed and kneeling minions. Segmented into pairs with the men in black and the women in red, they formed a perfect pattern of stripes in the center of the field.
Raze listened to a couple of lines of bullshit about the supremacy of the vampire nation, then tuned it out and focused on the leader. The man was tall, lean, dark-haired, and dressed in a three-piece suit. He had a mesmerizing cadence to his speech, a lulling sonorousness that was evident even though Raze had stopped registering the words.
He debated his next step, knowing this was an elaborate trap for him, one that would be designed with the expectation that he wouldn’t come alone. Which was why he’d done exactly that.
But he could still take them by surprise.
Pulling out his phone, he jumped through the hoops necessary to reach Adrian.
“Mitchell,” the Sentinel leader answered.
“It’s Raze. I’ve got a situation you’ll be interested in.”
“Where are you?”
“Chicago.”
“Yes, that is interesting. So am I.”
Raze stilled, his hackles rising at the softness of Adrian’s tone. “That’s not a coincidence.”
“No, it’s not. Location?”
He wasn’t surprised that the angel was so far from his home base in Anaheim, California. That was Adrian’s way. While Syre was cerebral in his leadership, using Raze and Salem to investigate and Vashti as his iron fist, Adrian was the opposite. The Sentinel leader left the administrative duties to others so he could remain a hands-on hunter in the field. A vampire hunter and gaoler—those roles being the sole purpose of his existence.
Raze gave his location, then pointed out, “I wouldn’t have called you if I just needed a hand or two. If you’re going to send a couple of lycans and call it a night, don’t bother.”
“Don’t tell me how to respond to a request for a favor.” The lack of inflection in the angel’s voice was more disconcerting than an outright threat would have been.
“If you’d let us establish some cabals and covens in the major cities, I wouldn’t need to call you at all.” The Sentinels used their lycans to keep vampires contained in rural, lower-population areas. They said the policy was to protect mortals, but the side effect was the hindering of the Fallen’s ability to police their own minions. And every transgression was another mark against them, another smudge barring them from any possibility of redemption.
“How many more rogue minions would there be if vampires were allowed access to such a smorgasbord of food? The spread would become uncontainable. It’s already out of control, or you wouldn’t be calling me.”
The line died, leaving Raze cursing at his phone. One of these days, he and the angel were going to have it out. But not tonight.
As the couples swayed like hypnotized king cobras, Raze leaped onto the uppermost bench, then started down the stairs, applauding as he went. “Man, you’ve really got your delivery down. I mean, I could almost buy it…IfI were a whacked-out moron.”
The man lifted his head and looked at Raze, his eyes glowing in the darkness. “Raze, how nice of you to join us. We’ve been expecting you. You are, after all, the guest of honor.”
Although the distance between them was great, neither of them needed to raise their voices to be heard. “I’d say I was more of a bouncer—one who’s going to bounce all your nutty asses into Hell.”
“Where are your friends? Surely you didn’t come to such an occasion alone?”
“Yeah, it’s just me. I tried to round up more of a party, but everyone said it’d be a dud. They were right.” Although he kept his descent easy and casual, Raze was hyperaware of new participants to the game as black-clad minions crawled toward him like ants. “Who are you?”
“Don’t you remember me?”
“Nope. You don’t ring any bells.” He could tell being forgotten really chafed, and that made him smile. In the back of his mind, he considered the possibility that Adrian might leave him hanging in the wind—the Sentinel hadn’t actually agreed to show up. But Raze had no choice but to proceed as if reinforcements were on the way. “Why don’t you enlighten me?”
“That’s my goal.” The man walked closer, his arms extended in dramatic fashion. “The Fallen are so busy wishing to be the angels you once were that you never enjoy being what you are.”
Raze pulled one katana out of its sheath, the moonlight glinting off the silver-plated blade. “The only thing I don’t like about what I am now is how much time I have to waste hunting dickheads like you.”
“Ah…you’d prefer to continue your quest to fuck everything willing to sate your lust. Of all the Fallen, you’re one of the most pitiable. At least the others fell for love. You fell only because you can’t keep your dick out of warm, wet holes.”
Pivoting, Raze sliced the head off the minion who’d attempted to come at him from behind. He took out two more who lunged from the sides, his speed and strength fueled by the bitter truth thrown in his face. Grimm’s eternal love bullshit was why Raze had volunteered to hunt him down. The twisting of love to achieve an even more twisted end stirred violence and fury inside him. He’d watched his fellow Watchers give uptheir wings for it, and Grimm’s doctrine made a mockery of that terrible, heartrending sacrifice.
“See how he slays the bravest of us?” the idiot prophet asked his minions. “His own people. Weakening us from within. We’ve elected to follow the Fallen, and yet they lead us nowhere! We remain in the shadows, hidden from the world, while?—”
