“That’s the spirit, mate,” Rans approved. “Right. Let’s get where we need to be. The clock’s ticking.”
TWELVE
KENNEDY FOREST WAS not exactly what you’d call untamed wilderness. For one thing, in my admittedly limited experience, untamed wilderness didn’t have this many paved bike paths or picnic tables. Nevertheless, it was sixty-plus acres of dense tree cover that would—hopefully—act as a buffer between the innocent citizens of St. Louis and a supernatural battle to the death.
Well... okay. A supernatural battle to the dismemberment, since death was off the table in Myrial’s case.
I was still pissed off about the whole ‘demon immortality’ thing. It was totally unfair that I’d never be able to get proper revenge for all the shit that the succubus had done to my family and friends. All I could hope was that if we were somehow successful in the fight, Myrial would end up in agony from the salt packed around her various body parts, for however long the trick worked. When it came to revenge, maybe decades or centuries of physical pain would be almost as good as death.
Rans and I swirled above the van, tracking its progress to the park entrance off Skinker Boulevard. Sure enough, a police car parked inconspicuously nearby flashed its lights as Guthrie turned onto the road entering Forest Park. Some of the various roads and entrances around the park had gates, but the main entrances were too large for that. They relied on park rangers and cops for nighttime security, instead.
Guthrie pulled over compliantly, turning off the engine and rolling down the window. I tried not to be nervous, knowing my worry was actually displaced anxiety about Myrial’s arrival—not about the current situation. With a vampire, a Fae, and a demon of fate in the van, the unsuspecting cops didn’t stand a chance.
Indeed, in mere seconds the officer who’d approached the van turned right back around and returned to his car. Moments later, the cruiser executed a neat three-point turn and headed for its lookout spot at the entrance as though nothing had happened. The van rumbled to life and headed further into the park, headlights off.
It took Guthrie a couple of tries to maneuver the bulky vehicle onto one of the paved trails leading into the forest proper. The narrow strip of asphalt left only a couple inches of clearance on either side of the wheels. Branches scraped against the top and sides of the van in several places as he drove, further marring its already questionable paintjob.
We’d scoped out an area in the northwest quadrant of the forest—eight acres that had been reclaimed as part of a savanna restoration project. There was an open meadow among the trees, populated with native grasses and wildflowers. The visibility in the clearing would be better than trying to fight in the woods, but cover was still available nearby if needed.
In addition, Albigard had surveyed the surroundings and declared that his magic would be more effective here than in areas with a heavier human influence. There were no lights in this part of the park, not that the darkness was a detriment for vampires. Rans and I landed next to the van as Guthrie and the others exited, only the anemic glow from the vehicle’s dome light cutting through the nighttime gloom.
I wasn’t sure how demons and Fae fared in full darkness, but Edward and my father would need light to see properly. I hadn’t thought to make sure we had flashlights packed, though that seemed like the kind of thing Guthrie would have taken care of, with his endless well of practicality.
In the end, it didn’t matter—Albigard snapped his fingers carelessly, and a glowing ball flickered into existence above his head. It split into two, one half floating over to hover at Edward’s shoulder, and the other next to my father’s. Dad visibly shuddered, leaning away from the manifestation of Fae magic, but Edward looked at his approvingly.
“Very deft, Flight Commander,” he said, still examining the light with interest. “Would you perhaps care to accompany me around the perimeter? I should set the blood wards now, even if we can’t activate them until after Myrial arrives.”
Albigard looked at the old man with mild distaste. “Demon magic?” he asked.
“Human magic,” Edward corrected. “Though admittedly strengthened by power drawn from a demon.”
Albigard’s expression smoothed, and he shrugged indifferent agreement. A few moments later, I smelled the faint metallic tang of human blood, as Edward opened a cut in his palm with a small blade. He and Albigard began walking around the edges of the battle site, defining the area with tiny drops of red as they went.
Theoretically, once the spell was activated, humans would be discouraged from paying attention to anything happening in the clearing—not too different from the obfuscation spell Edward had placed on Nigellus’ house in California to keep people from noticing it, or on my house here in St. Louis to keep anyone from wanting to enter. That part of the plan wouldn’t happen until after Myrial showed up, however, since such a spell might alert the demon to the presence of a trap.
As things stood, it was unclear if Myrial would be expecting an ambush or not. Worst-case scenario—she’d originally sent my father running here with the message that she was coming for me as part of her own trap. If that were the case, this kind of coordinated response might be exactly what she’d wanted. Rans’ presence here with me was a given. She’d probably be able to sense Guthrie’s proximity as well, since she held him in a demon bond in addition to sharing a blood-bond with me.
Nigellus’ involvement might not be a complete shock to her, either, given that he’d intervened to protect us once before. Albigard’s presence... could be, though. I doubted she would consider Edward’s or my father’s presences worth bothering about, one way or the other. She’d already proven on multiple occasions that Edward was no match for
