Chapter 6
Chapter six
Archer
Pain seared my skin as the explosion detonated where the witch had been standing, lighting up the dark like hell’s own heart.
“Motherfucker,” Vine hissed, his own burned face coming into view as my shadows receded. “What the fuck was that?”
It was a valid question; demons were impervious to fire, but whatever she had thrown at us had definitely done some damage.
Grabbing Vine by the back of the neck, I hauled him toward me, peering at the rapidly fading pockmarks spattered across his skin.
Leaning close, I sniffed, my nose wrinkling in disgust when I caught the scent.
“Holy water.”
“That bitch hit us with exploding holy water?” His golden eyes darkened with rage. “I’m not even gonna eat her soul. I’m gonna piss on it.”
“Wait,” I hissed, stopping him as he moved to follow her. Tilting my head to the side, I reached out with all my senses, closing my eyes and allowing my power to do the heavy lifting. “Something’s different.”
She was different.
The other Order witches we’d tracked had all had a sour scent, their binding and corruption rotting them from the inside out. But this witch didn’t smell tainted.
She smelled divine.
“She’s getting away,” Corson drawled, his gaze following the witch as she ran, her blond head disappearing around the back of the church as she fled into the night.
But I wasn’t worried. Taking another deep breath, I inhaled her scent again, the soft notes of sage and lavender oil lighting up my insides.
No, she wasn’t going to get far, not when I could follow her scent across time itself.
“Grab the bag,” I ordered, my feet already taking me toward where she’d disappeared. “Mal? Secure the area, then follow us.” Mal cawed an affirmative, then launched himself skyward, settling in the high, naked branches of a nearby tree. Looking to the others, I nodded. “Let’s see where she’s gone.”
I chuckled when I realized she hadn’t gone far at all. No, the crafty little witch had circled around the front of the church and gone inside.
How delightfully quaint.
Pushing my way through the yellow police tape, I climbed the stairs and headed through the double doors, pushing them open slowly, the iron hinges squealing softly in the quiet night.
Inside, the church was dark, still closed pending completion of the investigation into the murder of Father Phips.
The only light came from the streetlights outside, glowing through the double rows of stained-glass windows that lined both sides of the Nave.
There was a small cluster of prayer candles to the right of the Narthex, but they were dark and cold with no parishioners coming to light them.
But that didn’t matter, because I didn’t need light to follow her.
Looking around, I could see where the church had been ransacked, a few of the pews overturned and hymnals ripped apart, their pages carelessly strewn about.
Bastards. The disrespect pissed me off.
My footsteps echoed across the vaulted ceiling as I made my way down the checkered aisle, the sound snapping like gunshots in the quiet.
To one side, I could see where the office had been raided, and I shook my head.
I hated that they’d been in here, touching and defiling places they had no business defiling.
They’d pay. I’d make them all pay.
Starting with the slippery little witch hiding right under my nose.
When I reached the chancel I paused, as I always did when I came to Trinity, taking a moment to bask in the beauty that rose above.
The altar and the Astor Reredos behind it loomed large before me, imposing and striking as it was meant to be.
It was a beautiful piece, exquisitely carved in the finest marble and perfectly designed to compliment the stained-glass windows behind it.
As I stared at the frozen scenes and figures carved across its face, I couldn’t help the familiar pangs of homesickness that stirred deep in my chest.
It had been so fucking long.
Shaking away the lingering sorrow, I took another deep breath, once again seeking out my prey. The soft scent of her was muted here, buried beneath the overpowering notes of Frankincense and stale sweat.
“Come out, come out, little witch,” I called, ignoring the sounds of the guys moving up the aisle behind me. “Or don’t. It’s so much more entertaining when you run.”
She didn’t respond, but the sound of scrabbling came from behind the reredos. Turning to the guys, I jerked my head to one side, instructing them to go that way and indicating I’d go around the other, trapping her between us.
As I rounded the reredos, there she was, crouched on the floor and pawing at the back of the marble piece, her fingers pressing rapidly against the intricate carvings.
“What are you doing, little witch?” I asked, and her head snapped toward me.
For a moment, I couldn’t breathe; the fire in her blue eyes was captivating, and all I could do was stare.
Inside, the thrumming sensation in my chest reappeared, as though my very soul were vibrating within me.
The feeling was so intense I pressed my fist to my sternum, fighting the urge to close the distance between us.
Every instinct I possessed was screaming contradictory orders—kill her, protect her, claim her, run from her.
On my hand, the ring warmed, feeling like a hot coal wrapped around my finger.
The metal pulsed in rhythm with my heartbeat, as though it were alive and responding to her presence.
The crossroads magic that had lay dormant in the ancient band was stirring, recognizing something in this witch that I hadn’t yet begun understand.
It wanted her. To claim her soul for its own.
That much was perfectly clear.
I had the overwhelming desire to touch her. To feel her skin beneath my fingers and know what that connection between us could possibly become.
But then those wide, wild eyes narrowed with hatred, and she turned away, back to her searching, and those sensations fled, leaving me cold and hollow once more.
“I’ll grab her, boss,” Vine said, taking a step toward the witch from where he stood on the far side of her.
Seeing him approach, I snarled at him without thinking, only knowing I needed to stop him.
I could feel my true form rising, my back itching as my wings fought to escape their confines, and it wasn’t until Vine stopped moving toward her that I was able to wrestle myself back under control.
Exhaling, I ran a hand through my hair, then straightened my suit jacket, trying to get a handle on myself. This fucking witch was driving me crazy, and I’d barely been in her presence.
The sooner we killed her the better.
“I’ll handle it,” I replied roughly, moving forward, once again overwhelmed by the enticing scent of her. “Hello there, little witch.”
“Stay away from me,” she whispered, spinning on her knees so that her back was to the marble. “I mean it. Get back.”
“Oh, you mean it, do you? What a convincing argument you make.” She shifted, and I lifted one hand, shaking a finger at her.
“Ah ah. I’ll thank you to keep your hands behind your back and away from that sneaky little satchel you wear.
” Offering her a vicious smile, I added, “I don’t need any more of your surprises tonight. ”
Pausing for only a moment, she slowly moved her hands behind her, and I was surprised by her easy compliance.
Surprised and suspicious.
“Now, I’m going to ask you some questions and the more honest your answers, the longer you’ll live, alright?”
“As if I could ever trust the word of a demon,” she spat, shuffling backward as I approached, retreating from me until her back was pressed flat against the marble.
“I think you’ll find it is your kind who are untrustworthy, my feisty little witch.” She frowned at my words, but didn’t disagree with them. “Tell me, what were you doing in the churchyard?”
“Paying my respects to Alexander Hamilton,” she replied, the lie rolling off her tongue easily. “Big fan of his work.”
Moving fast, I crouched before her, one hand on either side of her head, my nose nearly touching hers.
Up close, I could see she was even more alluring than I’d thought before, her cheeks flushed and her eyes wide.
She looked wild, like the most beautiful kind of chaos, and I realized that I wanted to taste her, just once, before she died.
“That’s strike one, witch,” I whispered, my gaze dropping to her lips when her tongue darted out to lick them. “Don’t push it. Now, tell me what you were doing skulking around the place where my friend was recently murdered.”
“You knew Father Phips?” she blurted, her eyebrows rising. “But, you’re—”
“Let’s move it along,” Corson cut in, his voice tight. “We don’t want any company here.”
Over his shoulder I could see that Mal had arrived, eyes narrowed in my direction.
Ignoring them both, I turned my gaze back to the witch, searching her eyes for any sign that she was planning something, but all I could see was the brilliant blue of a clear sky.
“What do you know about Phips?” I pressed, needing to understand just how deeply she was entangled with the Order. If she wasn’t bound, she must one of their most trusted members.
“What do you know about Phips?” she countered, and I couldn’t help the shocked laugh that escaped me.
“Bold, aren’t you, little witch?”
“I just know a priest wouldn’t be caught dead associating with the likes of you.” The hatred in her words shouldn’t have surprised me, but it did, and for some unknown fucking reason, I was disappointed.
“I think you’ll find the world is much more complicated than you witches like to pretend it is.”
“Archer,” Corson snapped impatiently, drawing my gaze from the beautiful little liar still kneeling at my feet. “Just grab her and let’s go.”
“Archer? That’s your name?”
“For now,” I answered coolly.
“Well, goodbye, Archer,” she quipped.
There was a gentle click sound, then a part of the marble reredos swung open behind her, and before I could stop her, she tumbled backward into the hidden door and disappeared.
“What the fuck?” Vine cursed, kneeling at my side as the marble slab closed up again, the seam disappearing into the meticulously carved piece. “What the fuck was that?”
“She got away?” Corson deadpanned as he strode up to stand over us. “I can’t believe you let her get away.”
“Shut up and help me look,” I snapped. “There has to be a catch.”
“Just force it open,” Vine suggested unhelpfully.
“I’m not desecrating one of the most historic churches in the country, you imbecile.” Running my fingertips over the surface, I tried to picture where her hands would have been. Tricky little witch. If I weren’t so pissed I might have been impressed.
“Here,” I said, finally finding the hidden trigger, cleverly carved into a bunch of grapes.
Pressing it, the panel swung open again, revealing a hidden passageway beneath the reredos, a set of steep stairs that descended into the dark below the church.
“Well, well. Clever girl.” Ducking into the hole, I immediately started down the stairs, crouching to avoid hitting my head on the low roof.
When I reached the bottom, I looked around, taking in the new development with an assessing eye.
I noted the rough brick walls and the branching tunnels leading away from the stairs, a network of tunnels that held dozens of ancient crypts.
Many churches held deep catacombs, but there weren’t many of them on this continent, and I definitely hadn’t known about this one.
Secrets upon secrets, as Vine would have said.
The others joined me, clamoring down the rickety stairs behind me and taking in the scene.
“What the fuck is this and how long has it been here?” Vine asked, his annoyance plain.
“Since the beginning, if the burn marks on the support beams are any indication,” Corson offered, running his hands over the scorched wood. “I bet these are from when the first church building burned down in the Great Fire of New York.”
“You’re telling me that these tunnels have been here for more than two hundred years, and we didn't know it?” Vine looked baffled.
“And somehow, the witch did,” Mal offered, his head tilting just so.
I considered Mal’s statement, but didn’t comment. There would be time to find out just how this beguiling woman knew more about the history and secrets of Phip’s church than we did, but I needed to get my hands on her first.
Then she’d tell me everything.
Turning my head, I looked around the dank, darkened space and wondered just how much more had been hidden from us.
Phips had been a Guardian of the Brotherhood, and my friend.
I didn’t like the idea that he had secrets he hadn’t trusted me enough to share.
“It would appear that we have even more questions for the slippery little witch than we did before.” Turning, I sniffed the chilled, damp air, sorting through the myriad of scents until I found her, the gentle sage drifting along one of the passages to the right.
Smiling, I started in that direction, my heart beating heavily in my chest. “I think it’s time we got some answers. ”