“Are you going to shut him up?” Adrian asked, landing gracefully on a bench and swatting away the incoming surge of minions with an impatient flick of his massive wings. “Or is that what you needed me for?”
The vampires on the field had staggered to their feet when Adrian appeared, and now they scrambled in every direction. It was a natural, instinctive urge to run from an apex predator, but the Sentinel leader himself inspired unique awe and fear. Like Syre, Adrian had been blessed by the Creator, gifted with a face and form that was the height of angelic perfection. The thirty-foot expanse of his alabaster wings glimmered in the moonlight, the pure, pristine white of the feathers framed by crimson tips as if he’d trailed the edges through freshly spilled blood. That band of red was a vivid reminder of what he was—a weapon tasked with punishing the Fallen and containing their minions.
“He’s mine.” Raze raced down the steps and vaulted onto the field at the exact moment a dozen lycans in lupine form hit the grass, converging on the panicked mass. He went after the leader, who surprisingly stood his ground and faced off with a pistol in hand.
“I could change your life, Raze.”
“Gimme your name.”
“Does it matter?”
Raze shrugged and twirled his blade with practiced ease. “Always good to have a name to go with a kill.”
The man smiled. “You won’t kill me. You need me to tell you if there are more of us, how many more, and where they are. AndI won’t kill you because I need you, too. If you’d think outside the box, you’d realize that you could be the cornerstone of massive, sweeping advancement. You could have the mate you deserve. You could?—”
“You don’t know what I deserve.”
“Don’t make me hurt you, Raze.” He looked over Raze’s shoulder, and his smile widened. “You surprise me by bringing in the Sentinels and their dogs, but we had to get rid of them at some point. Now is as good a time as any.”
Using the man’s distraction, Raze whipped out the blade strapped to his left thigh and threw it, striking the prophet in the throat. The gun discharged. Pain ripped through Raze along with the bullet that shot clear through his shoulder and out the other side. The wound healed almost instantly, proving the man’s words to be true: He didn’t want Raze dead, or he’d have used a silver-laced bullet.
Behind him, the field erupted with the sounds of gunfire and the yelps of wounded lycans. Raze dropped to the ground. As the robe-clad minions utilized the weapons they’d hidden beneath their robes, he quickly assessed his options. Adrian and a female Sentinel took to the field, their wings deflecting bullets and slashing like blades. Screams rent the air. Bodies were hacked into pieces.
Most minions didn’t know what it was like to face a Sentinel. They could never prepare for the lethality of those magnificent wings that sliced like blades and were impervious to all mortal implements of destruction. Unique to each angel, the patterns and colors said much about the angel’s soul if you knew how to read them. Their average thirty-foot span meant it was nearly impossible to get close enough to inflict any damage.
Raze took out a minion with his other knife, then crawled to the prophet's body and took his gun. Lying on his back, he emptied the clip into the converging mass of robe-clad figures,slowing them down so he could join the fray with his swords. Leaping to his feet, he did just that, cutting a swath through the chaos.
Blood spurted and flowed like a river, soaking the grass and splattering Raze until he dripped with it. It was over in moments, leaving a battlefield upon which two Sentinels stood inviolate, surrounded by snarling lycans and a sea of dead bodies.
Raze pointed the tip of his blade at the two minions he’d managed to spare. “For you two,” he murmured, “the fun is just beginning.”
3
Raze made it back to his hotel just before dawn. He showered again, finishing the job he’d started with a hosing down at the field. Restlessness gnawed at him. The hunt wasn’t over. What troubled him was that he had no idea what it would take to end it. How many more of Grimm’s devotees were out there?
Tugging on a pair of black sweats, he propped up his iPad and placed a call to Vashti.
“Hey,” he greeted her when her face came on screen.
“Hey yourself.” Her gaze narrowed. “You’re looking rough. What’s up?”
It was hard for a vampire to look rough. He was surprised she said he did, but he brushed past it and caught her up on the night’s events.
“You killed him?” She leaned back into her sofa cushions. It was rare for her to indulge in any downtime, so rare that it took him a moment to pinpoint her location as her home in Raceport. “Just like that?”
“Just like that. After what they did to the man they left on my porch, he got off easy. I made it quick and painless.”
Her brow rose. “O-kay… But who’s going to give you intel now that the two minions you captured gave up a whole lotta nada?”
“I got his name. Eventually, I’ll have his mate.” His mouth curved without humor. “Baron has to have one if only to practice what he preaches.”
“Maybe you killed her tonight. Surely she would have been there.”
“She wasn’t on the field. Trust me, if you had seen how they were dressed and lined up, you’d know that everyone was paired except for him. I agree she was probably somewhere nearby, but she kept out of sight.”
“So, how are you going to find Mrs. Baron?”
“I’m emailing you his prints.” Sitting back, he ran a hand over his shaven head. “It’s probably a long shot to hope they registered when they mated, but it won’t hurt to check. I’m also sending you a video. They recorded the killing that brought me here. I found it on a jump drive bracelet Baron was wearing. The recording shows a blond woman doing the deed, but I can’t be sure that’s legit because they sent a doctored version to Adrian that shows me as the killer. That’s what brought him to Chicago.”
