I managed a smile at Etude as I passed the gargoyle, even if the scent of iron and bird feathers reminded me of Bis. Mood faltering, I looked up at the rasp of pixy wings.
“Rache! It’s Pike!” Jenks shrilled, and my reach for the door hesitated. “And Doyle. It’s not a doppelganger. I’d swear to it.”
I looked over my shoulder at Trent, my suspicion rising when he gave me a relieved nod and closed out his phone. Vampire representation, I thought sourly, glad I wasn’t going to turn into a mouse in front of everyone. “How many people did he bring?” I asked softly, visions of an unexpected skirmish floating in my head, and the pixy shrugged in disbelief. I’d bested Pike in his own tower. If he tried anything here, he was demon chow.
“Just Doyle. Even his assassins have backed off.”
Anger flooded me, and as I reached for the door, David settled protectively behind me. Seeing him nod, I opened it.
CHAPTER
25
It was Pike, his skin looking red and sore behind the gaps in his burned clothes. His scarred face was ugly in anger, and he held a wad of useless brown-paper bathroom towels to his side where his stitches had pulled. Doyle was just as angry, but at least his suit was intact.
I cocked my hip as Trent moved to my side and Vivian leaned against the archway to the sanctuary behind us, her coffee cup in hand and the tips of her hair floating, evidence of her pulling power from the nearby ley line. “Selling Bibles?” I said, and Pike’s eyes narrowed.
“Kalamack called me,” he said, his gaze flicking to Trent. “Something about a meeting.”
My lips parted as Trent reached past me and shook Pike’s hand. “You called him?”
“When I heard you got Zack. Yes,” Trent said. “He’s Constance’s scion. He should see this,” he added as he gave Pike a warning look and backed up. See this, he’d said, not be here. Clearly more was going on than a rival vampire being invited to a city-powers meeting, and I wrestled my anger down until I figured it out.
Doyle shifted his feet. “Ms. Rachel M. Morgan?” he said and my attention shot to him.
“Yes,” I said, thinking he sounded like a demon when he said it all together like that.
“Just checking,” the man said as he held out a trifolded piece of paper and I took it. “That’s a warrant for your arrest.”
“Oh, God,” David muttered, and Vivian sighed heavily.
Jenks hovered over my shoulder as I opened it to see that, yep, that was exactly what it was, dated yesterday. “What for!” Jenks shrilled, but it wasn’t Brimstone distribution, or even for busting out of the I.S.—which wouldn’t stick because I’d never been charged with anything when they brought me in. It was for failure to halt when instructed, fleeing a crime scene, and malicious destruction of city property.
Twin Lakes Bridge, I mused, remembering. “Seriously?” I said as Jenks’s dust made the ink glow. “I didn’t kill anyone. It was Pike.”
“That’s not what you’re wanted for,” Doyle said smugly. “We got six I.S. agents who saw you maliciously destroy their cars and vanish into a ley line when you were instructed to stop for questioning.” Smiling, he held out a pair of cuffs.
I refolded the paper and creased the line with a sharp fingernail. “Right.”
“Pike, dar-r-r-ling,” Mrs. Sarong drawled as she pushed her way forward, hand extended as if they were old friends. “So good to finally meet you in the flesh, so to speak. Come in. You can sit beside me.” She hesitated, shocked when she noticed his burned clothes, reddened skin, and the blood-soaked brown paper held to his side. “Did Morgan do that?”
“This is a city-powers meeting,” I said as I tapped Pike’s chest with Doyle’s warrant. “Here in Cincinnati, it has rules. No spell casting, vampiric bespelling, manhandling, killing, or abduction.” I looked at Doyle. “Legal or otherwise. You try anything with Zack or anyone else, I will turn you into toast and feed you to the pixies. Think you can sit quietly and listen?”
“City-powers meeting?” Pike echoed, clearly surprised, and I stood beside Trent, smug even as I worried about that warrant. They had me dead to rights, but I was busy.
“Yes. At my church. ’Cause I’m a city power, and it’s my turn to host it,” I said flippantly to try to hide my unease. I’d been a part of a few of these impromptu meetings—even called one once—but coming home to one in my church made me feel as if it was more of an intervention than the usual fact-finding, alliance-building endeavor. Yay me.
Pike chuckled, wincing when something pulled. “Is any of that chili left?”
Arms crossed, I stared at him, blocking the door. All his weight was on one foot. It would be easy to knock him down. Somehow, I resisted the urge. Maybe it was the warrant in my hand.
“Oh, good Lord,” Edden whispered, and I relented.
“Fine. You can come in,” I said, sullen as I shifted aside. Trent wanted him here. I didn’t know why, but I would trust that.
Mrs. Sarong eyed Pike. “You will not sit by me,” she said, then turned away. “We’re trying to decide who we are going to kill. Constance, or Rachel,” she added over her shoulder. “The entire city is in disarray, and it has to stop.”
“Oh.” Pike smiled as he pushed past me stinking of dried blood and sweat. “I vote to kill Rachel.”
I huffed my annoyance, but David touched my shoulder in encouragement before hustling after Pike. Doyle took a step forward to follow, and I put up a hand. “No,” I said, and he reddened. “You delivered your warrant. You can wait in the car. I’ll get back to you.”
“Ah . . .” Doyle started, and I slammed the door in his face. “You can’t do that! You have been served!” came faintly through the thick oak door, and I frowned, not liking how Pike was looking at me when I strode into the sanctuary.
“You’re going to pretend that warrant doesn’t exist, aren’t you,” Pike said as Trent passed us, his hand leaving tingles when it traced across my lower back. “Magic and money make right? You’ll make a great city power.”
I followed Trent, a guilty anger roiling my gut. “I see you got your babysitters back,” I snipped. “Safe again under Constance’s protection. Congratulations.”
Pike took an angry breath, hesitating when he saw Etude hunched by the window, his red eyes shining. “Don’t judge me,” he said softly, and the gargoyle’s ears pinned. “You are exactly like her in putting yourself above the law. What’s it going to be this time? Blackmail? Magic?” His eyes went to Trent. “Or money?”